A Vicious Cycle
by Ripsi
Summary: Time and time again they destroyed Umbrella facilities. Claire has joined AUA to assist them with taking the company down. But while they fall apart, Wesker schemes to find a way in to the unsure Redfield. Eventual Claire/Wesker
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I guess I just felt like I could do better than how I did on the TGOE, so I decided to try something with more involvement of other characters. It should be better. This is a Claire/Wesker, but I don't plan on making that so clear as last time. I'm still working on TGOE, but I just felt like doing this now, so don't get the two mixed up.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick. (She's funny).

It had been years, two long years since the incident in Raccoon City. Although, the memories would be forever fresh in the minds of those who experienced it, the survivors had to move on. If they did not leave the past behind them, then how could they expect to be happy? Because right now, happiness was not something they cared for, not for themselves at least. If they let their guard down then they would die with pride.

Chris did not want for his sister to live his life, but at least with him, he could keep an on her. Holding two of her duffle bags, he kicked the wooden door of the AUA building, throwing a small smile at Claire who was gripping two rolling suitcases nervously.

"Claire!" As soon as the door opened, Leon appeared, practically snatching most of her luggage from her and her sibling. Timidly, Claire shut the door, not quite at home enough to be confident there. The foyer was huge, but nothing special; it looked like it could have been better taken care of. "God, we gotta show you your room!"

After all this time, the brunet had not changed one bit, and she let him know that things felt the same. "Still the optimist huh?"

"Leon, did you have my-?" a blonde woman came down the stairs yelling, but she stopped at the sight of Claire. Enthusiastically, she shook the newcomer's hand, giving an introduction. "I'm Patricia Layfield! You must be Claire!" Speechless at such a warm welcome, Claire only gave a chuckle, but in her head she was questioning Jill's whereabouts. Would she be happy to see her?

Feeling out of place, Claire decided that she should find her voice. "So where is everyone?"

Excitedly, Leon said, "Well, Rebecca's on the internet trying to pick up leads on Billy Coen, Jill's in the gun range, Saul's sleep, and Kick's… being weird."

"Meditation does not make a person weird," came Rebecca's voice. Once the short woman rounded the corner, Claire gave her a friendly smile. The occasion on which they had met had been quite memorable, for each time, Wesker had decided to contact them. Wesker, the reason that AUA had pulled itself together, the reason they were all risking their lives here.

Chris cleared his throat, a sign that he did not really want to spend anymore time in that one spot. "Claire's room?" Everyone agreed after remembering that she had been on a plane for hours now. Leon was the first to go up the stairs and Claire had noticed how much more toned he was. After walking down a long hallway to a small room with no window, Claire and the others sat her things down and went to the basement.

This particular room reminded her of Umbrella's never-ending series of labs. It was too large, larger than the giant foyer even.

"I'm gonna round up the others," said Chris, leaving his younger sister with what had become his family over time.

After smiling awkwardly, Claire twiddled her fingers nervously. "So, who does what exactly?"

Patricia spoke first, and Claire sensed an amount of confidence in her- no, arrogance, that made her uncomfortable. "Well, even though Chris is squad leader, I'm the actual official from AUA. So… I'm boss," she said happily. Her thin hair was tucked behind her ears and neatly cut a bit beneath her shoulders. She looked like a typical model, thin, tall, but she lacked the beauty. In and old-fashioned way she was pretty, but nothing more.

It seemed to be Rebecca's turn to speak, but instead, Claire once again heard Patricia's voice. "Becca just does her best job: Biochemist, nurse… hacker. That sort of thing." Her tone demeaned the young woman's job, and Claire felt enraged for Rebecca for some reason. "Leon's our weapons guy. He gets his hands on the best somehow." For this job description, she added enthusiasm and admiration, and Claire could see clearly that she was not appreciating her friend's job itself.

At the sound of shoes coming down the stairs, Patricia seemed excited, probably so she could talk some more. Jill entered after Chris, and then came a man and woman who must have been Saul and Kick. Only Kick did not acknowledge Claire, she only adjusted her shades and sat next to Rebecca in one of the rolling chairs. The way she adjusted her shades… and she was wearing them in the dim basement…

As though there was no interruption, the blonde continued. "Jill's our go-to-gal when we need a way in and out. Saul Aimsley here is just a hulk of a man good for brute strength strategizing fights." Saul _was _a brute of a man. About 6'2 with black hair and olive skin, he also looked like any girl's dream-guy. He gave Claire a wink and grinned at her.

Patricia's mouth opened to continue, but a new female voice beat her to the last introduction. "I'm just smart as hell with everything," came the nonchalant voice of Kick. Claire stared at the light-skinned girl for a moment, curious about every aspect of her. Her ethnicity, her real name, her past, and because of the fear Wesker had instilled in her, her eyes. Kick's dark brown, wavy hair flowed to her elbows, and despite the shades, Claire could tell that she was an exotic beauty, another reason that Patricia seemed annoyed with her unauthorized introduction.

Curious, Claire asked, "What's your real name?"

Everyone's attitudes changed as they looked away from the newcomer, but Kick only gave a half-grin and said, "Well, we don't know that just yet." Then, Claire watched as she removed her black shades, revealing a pair of blood red eyes, the only thing about them normal was the pupils and the whites. The only part that mattered though, that actually told a person's story was… different. An unintentional gasp left Claire, and she stumbled along an apology.

Patricia looked vexed, her fingers massaged her temples, and she pursed her lips. Obviously, she and Kick were not friends. "Jill, will you help me with the coffee? I'm sure that Claire needs it." Wordlessly, the two women left, and Jill had still neglected to bestow even a look of welcome upon Claire. This, however, did not bother her, Kick's eyes did.

Twirling in her chair a bit, Kick, the woman who was an inch or two shorter than Rebecca, stretched her legs and asked, "Curious?"

"_I _am," answered Leon, a wolfish grin on his face.

"Has no one told you yet?" You're awake," retorted Kick, receiving "oohs" from the group.

Trying to draw the spotlight away from the drama, Chris answered a few of Claire's unasked questions. "Kick's a Tyrant, Claire. We found her about six months back in an Umbrella lab. Instead of killing us, she helped us; we were the ones that woke her. We know nothing solid about her past, but she sometimes has flashes or dreams of what could be her history."

With a new fear of the tiny woman, Claire nodded and wished that her prejudice would allow her to get to know her before condemning her character.

"Because of DNA and traits, we've found that I'm Brazilian and Arab. The first languages I spoke were Arab, Portuguese, and Spanish, so the evidence proves Rebecca's test to be correct." Kick sounded sure about that, but the dreams were like forbidden territory to Claire. Only after she got to know her better, could she ask such intimate questions. "I'll tell you later." Could she read minds too?

"Sometimes," Kick quickly answered, a playful smile on her face. "Sorry, I read faces."

"Ooh!" Leon suddenly jumped up, bringing a pencil with him as if he was about to perform a magic trick, he held the object before her. "Watch." Suddenly, with force, he launched the writing utensil at Kick's eye, only for it to stop abruptly, and fly back at him, barely missing his head. Claire sat there, wide-eyed and mouth agape in shock. "'Only works with small things, otherwise she faints."

Indifferent, Kick yawned and went back to her cool position, "'Hope the coffee's fine." Leaning forward to Claire and looking somewhat mischievous, she whispered, "Patricia's trying to kill me." With a wink, she sat back, Claire still looking astounded. How could she sit there and just have a regular conversation with a woman who could float things with her mind?

"Why do they call you Kick?" Claire asked, finding her voice. At this question, Leon seemed embarrassed and sat back down while the others grinned.

Rebecca managed to stop grinning so wide to say, "When we found her, she kicked… Leon, as soon as she woke up." Something about their faces said that something else happened. Something that they left out for Leon's sake. This would prove to be interesting and Claire could hardly wait.

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After getting some sleep, Claire decided to tag along with Leon, who _tried_ to tag along with Kick, who was cleverly evading him and his college pranks. Obviously, until duty called, they were just to stay at HQ, useless. After seeing the two playful friends several times up to no good, Chris often gave them disapproving glares. Other than those few moments, he remained in the basement with Rebecca, Patricia, and Jill. Jill still had not said a word to Claire, and she wondered why. Eventually though, they would have to exchange words.

After another foiled joke on Kick, Claire finally inquired as to why Leon was so obsessed with getting to her. "Leon, do you have a crush on Kick or something?"

As he threw more Hot Tamales at the woman who easily dodged them, he answered as though it should have been obvious. "No! It's just fun to screw with her." In the moment that his mouth was open, Kick, fed up with the endless barrage of spicy candies, expertly threw one down his throat.

Rather than helping him, Claire stared down at her fallen friend, who was trying to hack up the candy and said, "Stupid." Without saying anything, Kick left the kitchen, plate and glass in hand, and disappeared into the dining room. A few seconds later, Saul walked in, laughing about something that no one else heard or saw. It wasn't Leon; he had gotten back up by then.

"Oh, I tell you 'bout that Kick," he said in his southern accent. Neglecting to elaborate on the humor she delivered, he walked to the fridge and pulled out an energy drink. "Claire, you likin' it here so far?" he asked, taking a swig of the beverage.

"It's better than I expected," she said, as Leon dusted himself off and he cursed something about how dirty the floor was.

Saul's mouth opened to say something else, but the door leading to the dining room slammed open and Kick came in to wash her dishes. She looked upset, and they soon saw why; Patricia was now entering..

Her arrogance was clear in her voice as she scolded the shorter woman. "Kick, do you realize the danger you cause?!"

Looking like she was about to explode, Kick turned to her superior, eyes shining even more red that usual. "Look, you dumb, idiotic, power-hungry bitch! You say one more thing that I declare out of line and you will be walking around with half a brain at one mile per hour!" Chest heaving, she decided to stop before she followed through on every threat that ever came to her mind. Instead of embarrassing herself before her comrades, she left, leaving Patricia to receive the stares.

Once Patricia realized that she had an audience, she looked at Claire. "I'm sorry that you had to see that," she said, trying to salvage her image in front of the newest addition to the AUA family. Unable to regain her full composure, the blonde left, Saul excusing himself soon after.

Leon was silent as he picked up the thrown pieces of candy, one by one, stalling for time. He did not wish to touch the subject, not with Claire. "I'm going to the gym… wanna come?" he asked her, hopeful that lifting weights would take her mind off of what she just witnessed.

"Um, not today. I'm gonna find Jill." That was a lie, but she could not tell Leon her true intentions. It appeared that no one- well, Patricia at least- wanted her to be near Kick, to learn anything about her. If Claire's life was in Kick's hands though, she would break the rules to learn more. She had to trust her.

It was strange that she was waiting outside the bathroom, but Claire had to get to her somehow. When Kick exited the door, Claire pretended to be just rounding the corner. "Kick, hi." The Tyrant only gave a nod of acknowledgement as she scrutinized Claire's face. Did she trust her?

"What do you wanna to know?" Kick asked, not beating around the bush. It did not bother her because she knew nothing about herself, just what her dreams told her. Claire said nothing for a moment, not knowing where to start. "Hey, how about this: you write a list and I'll tell you everything you wanna know tomorrow night?"

"Ok," the redhead agreed, and she watched Kick walk down the hallway and turn down the right corridor to the hall where her room was. How was she going to do this? What if she found out something that she did not want to know, or something that could get her in more trouble than she was already in?

Something attacked her ribs and she jumped around at the surprise. "Hiya stupid!" cried Leon, grinning in her face at the scare he gave her. Claire was too deep in thought about tomorrow night to have much of a reaction. "What's up with you?" he asked, noticing the look in her eyes.

Over time, she learned to take precautions when dealing with situations such as these, so the only person she felt comfortable with asking had showed up at the right time. "Do you think Patricia will be pissed if I got to know Kick?"

Sighing, he held his hands behind his head looked at the ceiling for a moment. "Claire, if you think you need to know more about someone who's gonna be with you on the battle field then don't hesitate to ask questions. You're gonna be depending on her, so you need to trust her."

Understanding, Claire nodded and accepted the hug that Leon gave her. His strong arms easily held her small body, and she remembered why she had missed him so much. She missed the way he felt, the love that radiated off of him, and she though of family. Before Leon, Chris was her only family, and she loved knowing that someone else that was not obligated to love her did so anyway.

"I missed you Leon," she breathed, inhaling the smell of his cologne, enjoying the feel of his warm body. When she was with him, she never thought of all the horrible things that they endured, but instead thought of the things that they had to look forward to. If someone had not cleared their throat, then Claire would not have let go of him.

Reluctantly, they released each other, and turned to see Patricia, standing there with her hands on her small hips and a smirk on her face. The smirk was not a playful one, but that is what the blonde intended for it to be. The look in her eyes said that she was jealous of the affections that Leon was showering Claire with, and this got to her. Did she want Leon that bad, but if so he could not tell.

"Office relationships are frowned upon," she said, once again failing at faking playfulness.

Playfully, Leon grabbed Claire by the waist, and kissed her forehead. "It's not forbidden though," he said, a smirk on his handsome face.

Now, Patricia frowned as she said, "To bed you guys. We have a briefing tomorrow, and Barry's received another 'hologram' from Wesker. Claire's gotta get caught up on everything fast so she's got a busy day ahead of her." Even though they complied, Claire still did not see her as a superior, she saw her as exactly what Kick had called her today.

Of course, now only one thing mattered, and that was the message from Wesker. Was he aware of her being there, or was he just sending the regular threat? Whatever it was, it would not be pleasant to her ears. Maybe this time though, they would stop him, because they all knew him, and they had a Tyrant on their side. But maybe that could also be their downfall.

A/N: Tell me what you think. I was just trying to get Claire settled in this chapter. But the next chapter's gonna be better so please review! And there's gonna be Wesker in the next chapter!


	2. Into the Unknown

A/N: I'm changing the rating of this fic because I just watched "Disturbia," which is PG-13... Quite a lot of language for a movie that thirteen year olds can watch. I have also considered the change in the rating system lately, and have decided that this fic should be T, since I haven't even begun with the language yet. However, if I do decide to make Wesker into a sadistic jackass with strange ways of "getting off," then I'll change the rating back to M. In addition, do people realize the language 13-year-olds use? Wait a minute… I should keep it M. Here we go. Oh, but first I wanna thank Illise (always faithful), Chaed, and Alucard's-Master. I love y'all for the reviews.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna who have yet to be introduced are mine too.

Even after all this time, he was still working _for_ someone. He was still answering with "Yes sir," or "No sir." Sighing in boredom, he continued his rapid typing, but did not find what he was searching for. "Kick," as AUA had been calling her, had been eluding Wesker ever since she escaped the Caribbean facility. For some reason, he could not even pinpoint the current location of Redfield.

Every now and then, a signal would be picked up on the satellite, and whatever Kick was seeing was broadcasted. Last night, he saw Claire, and heard mostly nothing but silliness. How bored could they be there? Not as bored as he was. Claire seemed to be different in some way, but surely, it was not because she had turned twenty-one.

She was intelligent and gutsy throughout the last huge incident. However, only Redfield stupidity led her to show bravery in the face of Albert Wesker. Never had she bit her tongue in fear of his reaction, never had she pleaded with him in hopes of gaining mercy. Now, he would be seeing more of her since she had seemed to decide to try to become friends with Kick. He did not have time for these games.

Somehow, though, Claire's arrival had seemed to trigger tension in this particular AUA group. This could be a way in for him, a way to destroy every single one of them. This Patricia was the key to everyone's end, everyone's end but Kick's of course. No, he needed her back in Umbrella's custody, back in safe hands. The last think he needed was for her to begin displaying attachment for any of the humans she was living with.

Two knocks made him turn in his chair. "Come in." Calm as always, Ada Wong entered the room, a file in hand. No doubt, it was a file from HCF; the company Wesker was working to betray. It was the very same company that Ada was undoubtedly loyal to.

Handing him the manila folder, she said, "They've been keeping you quite busy." Not saying anything else, she left the room, and immediately after, Wesker tossed the folder to the side and continued trying to find a connection. Ada thought that she was convincing, and maybe she was to others. That did not stop Wesker from keeping her employment though. Inside, he felt that he should no longer be getting his hands dirty, but someone else. Company was her main purpose in his life. When needed, he called upon Ada, but otherwise she was nowhere to be found. There was no affection, no need for her, just the occasional want brought on by his needs as a man. Yes, he still considered himself a man, even though he was also a monster.

Right now, he wanted some kind of bug inside the building, so he would have to implant one into someone without them knowing it. Leon would do. Another sacrifice had to be made, another facility would have to go down; he could not sit there and wait for an old Umbrella satellite to start working again. Something kept him from finding the HQ, but finding it was not his intention anyway, If he sent someone to kill them, what fun would that be for him?

He just wanted information for now. They had managed to capture lost Umbrella information and they had not destroyed it. Was it a request from the American Government, or was it bait? Either way, it was Umbrella's property, and Wesker wanted it back.

"My, my Mr. Kennedy," sighed Wesker, looking at the large screen before him. "You do enjoy Kick's company don't you?" A signal had been picked up, and he watched Kick open her door to the smiling face of Leon. He was informing her of the meeting, no doubt the meeting where they would hear his message. So far, she had resisted any feelings other women seemed to develop for him.

"Good girl," he commented as she shut the door in his face. As she made a swift turn, the signal was lost, and Wesker sighed. A soft chuckle disturbed the quiet of the room and he let his thoughts wander again. When he found them, what would he do? Already, he knew he would not kill Chris first, that would not make anything better.

Chris would have to be last to make Wesker's anger subside. As for Claire, would he kill her? She posed no threat to him, but he could not simply let her go as if she never existed. This was a tough decision to make. He knew that he would kill Barry, Rebecca, Jill, Leon, and Chris. The other two did not matter and Kick would come with him, but what was Claire's fate?

He could not kill her simply because of the fact that Redfield blood ran through her veins, and such a woman could not go to waste. Therefore, he decided that he was hiring, and she would have to choose between life and death. As a human, she would lean toward living, but since she was a Redfield, she would be stubborn. He would cross that bridge when he came to it, not make hasty decisions right now. Besides, she was only a Redfield.

His intercom beeped and a male voice came from the little, black box. "Mr. Wesker, you're wanted in the conference room." Once again, he would have to answer to men higher up on the corporate ladder, and he hated that. With his usual, confident stride, he made his way to the oval room full of aged men that all looked quite bored with this life. The stress of this world had wrinkled them, and tired them out over the many years.

Oh yes, they envied him and his ever-lasting youth that he had gotten as a favor. The stares that they gave him let him know that he would have to watch his back, for soon, they would be after him and his DNA. Yet this was the life that he was striving for, the seats that he hoped he would be able to inhabit with the "big dogs." Never would you hear him admit that his goal was quite pathetic. No, Wesker was never wrong, and this belief and self-assurance had gotten him so far already.

Of course, he had gotten far; he was still on this earth. Did he breath, did his heart beat? No one was there to tell him, and for his comfort Ada would lie for him so, there was no use in asking her to "be honest." As though they were interrogating him, they always made him stand before the oval table, the same shape of the room.

"Have you located Dr. Abolhassan-Ramirez?" asked one of the men. Wesker never remembered his name, but he knew that he was one of the younger members.

Feeling the need to remind Wesker over and over again about a mission, the man called Jenkins asked, "You are aware that Agent Isabella is our top priority here at Umbrella?"

Agitated, Wesker gritted his teeth. Before he spoke, he made sure that his attitude was in check, he did not want to be lectured like a child today. "I realize that, but our satellites have been unable to give us coordinates, just live feed of what the subject is witnessing." The men all had their heads in their hands, all too tired to support them themselves. This would never be Wesker, could never be Wesker.

The oldest at the table, the only one with pure white hair spoke. His lilting French accent only added to the mystery of his voice, and only made one focus on what his past could have been. "Wesker, do you realize what we have riding on this project?" His mouth was opening to answer, but the man continued to speak. "That if you do not retrieve Ms. Ramirez that we will fail?"

A white brow rose on the wrinkled forehead, permanently marred by all the years of stress and worry. This gesture was silently telling Wesker that he could comment, or rather bow his head and leave.

"I will find her, Spencer." As the eldest man coolly sat back, Wesker understood that it meant for him to leave. Teeth grinding together, he gave the bow that they normally demanded, and he left the oval room. One day, he would be in Spencer's seat, and he would no longer bow down to them. Never again.

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They were in the basement again, but this time at the other end. A huge chalkboard was set into the wall and a billboard with photos of Wesker sat next to it. Even when they did not want it, Wesker was there anyway, and it still felt as though _he_ was watching _them_. Patricia stood before them all; they encircled her with their chairs. Leon was once again bothering Kick; he sat next to her with his arm around the back of her chair.

Patricia looked upset, but Claire and Rebecca grinned and joked about it.

"You know you smell good, right?" Leon teased, but Kick only leaned away from him. The brunet acted as though he had never witnessed rejection, but Kick said that he knew all too well. She was not joking with him, and Claire feared for their safety when she was angered. Of course, on the battle field, there could only be trust.

"All right, that's enough!" scolded Patricia, earning scoffs and a few giggles from Leon, Rebecca, and Claire. Chris cleared his throat, signaling that they were to get serious now. After a few seconds of watching Patricia hold the bridge of her nose and mumble to herself, everyone had calmed down. "We received a message from Barry last night that is from Wesker. Now Wesker doesn't know our location, so he's operating through Barry right now. We are not worried about his safety, because-"

"Everyone knows that if Wesker wants Barry dead then it'll happen. He's still alive, and Wesker knows where he lives, so it's safe to say that he's okay." This was the first thing that Claire had heard Jill say since she got there. Only she seemed amazed as she stared at her in disbelief. So she was ignoring her.

Looking slightly annoyed, Patricia nodded and it showed that she detested being cut off. She did not have to make it so painfully obvious that she pretty much hated the world, and that she was threatened by almost any woman within two feet.

After another pause that displayed annoyance, she continued. "Now, I know that this next statement will hurt some feelings, but-"

"We discussed this!" seethed Chris, standing up from his seat.

"Not as a group," was Patricia's calm response. Claire searched the faces around her, and only Chris, Jill, and Kick seemed to be aware of what was going on. She hated this feeling, the feeling of the unknown. After no one continued the conversation, Leon held the sides of his chair and his mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Softly, as though something was stopping him from speaking, he whispered, "No."

Before Leon could say anymore, Patricia shook her head in an apologetic fashion. "Leon, it's-"

"And what's sending her away gonna do for anyone?!" he screamed, standing up too. Now, it was Leon and Chris against Patricia. With those odds, there was no way that anyone else was on her side.

"Stand down!" Patricia commanded in a stern voice, but they were not on the field right now. Even if they were, Claire doubted that he would have listened to her anyway.

"You're not sending Kick away!" At Leon's words, both Kick and Claire looked up at him, admiration and confusion shining in their eyes.

"Where's she going?" asked Claire, sounding like a child. "Why is she going?"

"She's not going anywhere!" Leon answered, but they all knew that Patricia's word was like God's. This arguing, this yelling, there was no way that this was healthy for the group. How could they risk their lives for one another if there was so much animosity?

"Where's she gonna go?" asked Chris, becoming impatient.

"I don't know. Why don't you ask Wesker?" Patricia asked, knowing that this would somehow hurt Kick's chances at staying.

"I don't know him!" Kick, who had been silent throughout this whole argument was now speaking out and defending herself. "God, I told you that so many times!" Sincerity was the only thing in her eyes, but there was no look of pleading, and she looked as though she really did not care about her future at AUA. "If you let me go and he gets his hands on me, don't you think he'll use me to get here?"

"She's right," said Rebecca, looking down at her lap. "Wesker has been after her; whenever you go out to a facility they're after her. They want Kick back."

"Back a dog into the corner Patricia… see what happens." In one swift movement, Kick stood up and walked away from the group.

"We are in a meeting!" the blonde called after her.

"Fuck you!" Kick's last words seemed to echo throughout the basement, even though they did not. As the basement door slammed, they all quieted, and Claire looked at Saul for the first time since she had come down and saw discomfort in the way he fidgeted.

Fed up, and seeming antsy, Leon sat back down. "Just play the goddamned message." Not waiting for Patricia to say anything, Jill placed a small, flat object in the circle and tapped a button on the top that was not visible to Claire in the dim room. Suddenly, Wesker appeared, standing before them in an all back suit.

Even when he wasn't face to face with someone, he looked professional. Of course, this was Wesker, always taking things to the extreme.

"Greetings. Oh and I hear that Claire is the newest member of your little gang." As always, he sounded demeaning. They listened on as he demeaned their jobs and purpose of coming together. "I understand that you are saying you wish to "take me down." He let out a little chuckle and adjusted his shades. It was obvious that Kick had picked up that habit from him.

After the amusement disappeared, Wesker cleared his throat, and it seemed as though he was reacting accordingly to every emotion they were feeling. "However, you have something that belongs to me. I believe you have given her a pet name and all but… A word to the wise, I mean Claire by this seeing as she is the only one with any sense: what you have in your custody is Pandora's Box. Alluring and precious, but on the inside there is nothing but destruction. You cannot tame a lion. Believe me, we have tried."

The hologram faded out, and Wesker was gone. His abrupt ending was not expected by Claire, but she still felt as though the object would explode. That fear was for nothing, for Jill picked it up and placed on a nearby desk without seeming to be worried about any repercussions.

Once again annoyed, Patricia sighed. "That's it? 'Give me Kick, hi Claire.' Why are you so special?"

A look was on Claire's face that could only be described as anger. Patricia's words were like a slap to her face, and it was only then that Claire noticed the blonde probably did not realize when she was being offensive. No, she knew when she was being that way, she just thought that she could get away with it. No more, because she did not know Claire, but she would get to.

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The few minutes he had spent in the hallway felt like hours. He did not know what she would say, what she would think. He would not know until he knocked on the door. Taking his hand from his pocket, Leon pursed his lips and then knocked. After a few seconds, it opened, revealing a calm Kick.

"Hey," she said, moving back to allow him in. This was new, and quite unexpected. Never had she let him in her room, and never had she greeted him. "What did you need?" she asked, sitting up against her headboard, one leg bent. Leon's eyes took in her shape, the way her gray tank top clung to her body, how smooth her legs looked. Having noticed his silence, she cleared her throat, reminding him that he was there to talk.

"Oh." He walked to the chair in the corner by the window and sat down, his eyes staring off into the trees. Very few of these rooms had windows, and both of them were lucky enough to get such special chambers. Leaned forward, and forcing his eyes to look at hers, he clasped his hands together. "I don't want you to leave." His words were straight to the point, and yet they were so sincere.

For some reason, her head turned and her eyes were locked on something in front of her closet. Leon's eyes followed, and he saw the black, leather duffle bag. Right now it was empty, but open as though it was about to be filled, as though she had ripped it open in her anger. Wordlessly, he stood up from the chair, and walked the two steps to the closet. He picked up the bag and opened the closet door, throwing the bag inside.

With fire in her already, red eyes, she breathed deep. He watched as her large bosom heaved with every breath she took, and he did not care that she was upset. Ever since she arrived she had been territorial, and guarded her things, but he would not let her intimidate him.

"Calm down." Rather than sitting on the chair, he sat at the foot of her bed, and stared at the tattoo of rosary beads around her ankle, the ink cross on her foot. On the other ankle, on the inside, he knew there was a religious saying in Arab, but he did not know what it said. "We need you here. Plus, who am I gonna fuck with?" This brought no smile to her lips; instead she just nodded and stared out the window.

She was too afraid to leave. Wesker was the alternative, and Leon could see through all of her bluffs. This was no game, and her tantrums would always have to be dismissed.

"You're family," he said, standing up from the bed and walking to her. Without an ounce of uncertainty in him, he leaned down to her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "You're like my sister." Having said everything he needed to, Leon turned to go to the door. As the knob turned in his hand he heard her voice.

"Sisters normally don't actually kill their brothers."

"Always have to have the last word," he said with sarcasm. And he left, not wanting to argue with her anymore. This moment had not gone unseen though, because Leon always knew that Wesker had a way.

A/N: There we go! There was Wesker… not much though. But there was Wesker! Until we get Wesker/Claire interaction there won't be so much of him that you want. Tension is already flaring up in the house. What's Claire's problem? She goes to a city and people die! She goes to a house and everyone wants to start a mutiny. Wow. Well, review peoples!


	3. Dreaming Awake

A/N: I decided to change the rating to T until I got to the bad parts. I'm really changing it this time. I don't like this chapter, and I think it's too short, but I gotta get it out. Excuse me if some of the spelling and grammar is wrong but I'm TIRED.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna who have yet to be introduced are mine too.

A tired sun fell from the sky lazily, casting an orange glow on the surrounding are. Behind her, Claire heard Patricia whispering with Jill about something. Still, Jill was not speaking to Claire, but all that was on the younger Redfield's mind was what she would hear tonight. It was frightening, and it made her wonder about her own problems. So any burden that her partner had, she would share it with her.

Anticipating the sun's disappearance, she drummed her fingers against the window sill. This was the night that she would find out more about the Tyrant, and maybe she would become more human in her eyes. The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs caught her attention, and she turned to see Leon with a sad smile on his face. She knew that he had spoken with Kick, and that it went well, but she felt as though there was more to it than he told her. The way he looked at Kick, the way he defended her, there was no way this was a brother/sister relationship.

"Last time I checked, she was napping," he informed Claire. "She only sleeps one day a week and naps every other day. You can wake her up."

"And why would she do that?" Patricia's voice was cold and still arrogant. Arms folded over her chest, she and Jill turned to look at Claire and Leon.

Face turning red and teeth gritted, Claire turned to the blonde. "I think I should get to know her."

"Why, so she can kill you too?"

At this, Claire's brows furrowed and Chris appeared at her side. Once Claire looked at him, she saw anger and could not recall Chris ever behaving this way. Patricia had sparked something to life within him, and it scared both Claire and Leon.

"Claire," Chris began, his voice low and defensive, "Go ask her anything you need to know." Not questioning him, the redhead practically dashed up the stairs and to Kick's room. Raising her hand to knock, she found no need to do so; the door was open a bit. Unsure, she walked into the room, gently closing the door behind her. On the bed, Kick lie unmoving and not breathing either.

Upon closer inspection, she was breathing, just very softly. Slowly, not wanting to startle her, Claire reached to touch the sleeping woman's shoulder, but without warning, she sat up as though she had just been resting.

"Hey." Kick's voice proved that she had been asleep, and so did the color of her red eyes. "'Figure out what you want to know?" She patted the spot on the bed next to her, and Claire hesitantly sat next to her. Her body language did not bother the woman, who Claire assumed to be older.

That was something she wanted to know. "How old are you?"

Giving a thoughtful look, Kick bit her bottom lip. "They think that I had just turned twenty. 'Not really sure." She really did not know anything about herself, and Claire imagined a life where she did not know where she came from. How could one only go by what others told you about yourself?

"What kind of dreams do you have?" Claire asked, and then she noticed a strange emotion that clouded over her eyes. She looked deep in thought, she even looked scared. The look was gone as soon as it came, and Kick looked into Claire's eyes. To Claire, it felt like she was looking through her, rather than at her.

What could this woman possibly be going through?

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It was cold, but not bone chillingly cold. It was bright though, way too bright. There was a feeling of familiarity about the place, but she was unable to figure out why. Squinting at the surrounding area, she could see boots, legs, but it was too bright to look up anymore.

"Agent?" a man asked. There was another word he said after that. No, it was a name, but every time he repeated it, it was muffled.

"Doctor?" another voice asked. Why were they referring to her with so many different titles? Without meaning to, she stood up, not really knowing why. Standing up was not really easy; her knees buckled underneath her weight, but two strong hands held her up while another pair placed a white towel over her wet, naked body. Still unable to look up, she let the hands guide her to another place.

Once the lights had dimmed and she was sitting, she looked up to see a blonde man, wearing shades. Even though she did not know him, she thought that he was handsome. He wore all black and black shades. His blond hair was neatly slicked back, and that added to his appeal.

He had said a name, and it was once again muffled. Assuming that he was talking to her, she felt her mouth open, and then close quickly as someone else began to speak.

"Are you all right, Dr.?" Once again, her name was not heard, but lost somewhere in the room.

"I think so." Even though she said it, she did not mean to. The other man was a man with glasses and dark brown hair. He wore a lab coat, and that only made him seem smarter. "What happened?"

"… interfered with your mission," the blond man replied, the first name missing though. "You were badly injured." It felt strange to do so, but she felt as though their eyes were on her abdomen. Wanting to know why, she looked down into the towel, finding that nothing was there; part of her was missing.

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For a woman who had no conscious memory of her past, she sure did have some pretty accurate dreams. A broad grin presented the large screen before him with perfect, white teeth. Sheer entertainment, that is what watching them was like. During Kick's recollection, Wesker had seen many things, many of Claire's emotions. He got to see her in a more comfortable state than he could ever expect to see her in his presence.

Never had Claire looked at him like a normal person, like he deserved courtesy and respect. Respect by fear did not gain much satisfaction, but respect by character was quite the achievement. To Wesker though, respect was respect, and those around him should fear him and hat he was. The memory of Claire trembling when he held her by the neck flashed before him, but she did not fear him. The screen showed Claire leaning forward, apologizing to Kick for what happened to her, but then static made the screen fuzzy as the signal was lost.

Her face lingered in his mind momentarily as he struggled to understand why. There was something Wesker did not know: he would be seeing a lost of Claire, but would he stick around to watch? Of course, it was better than seeing Chris. His attention soon left the younger Redfield sibling, and the resentment for Chris bubbled up. Now was not the time to be dredging up these feelings; he had things to attend to.

First he needed to create a reason for them to lead, and second, he needed a tracer on someone.

There was a beep from the intercom. "We're ready for you down in the lab Dr. Wesker." Smirking at the title that he rarely used anymore, he stood up from the desk and made his way to the elevator. When he reached the labs, not needing to dress in the safety suits, he strode through two sliding doors that opened automatically for him. His attire of all black clashed with the white walls, but the only thing on his mind was the subject on the table before him.

"Too young as always," he sighed, looking down at the motionless girl. That is what she was, since she was not grown, at least that is what he assumed. One of the two scientists was adjusting a white sheet over her bare body, and it was very rare that they felt the need to do so. Right now, she appeared useless, but like the others she would probably turn violent, and they would have to terminate another project. "Damn you Roger."

The two scientists looked at him, confused about his words, but did not dwell on them. A twitch from the young girl caught their eyes, and the brunet began breathing again. She was probably another woman who though this was an easy job, but Umbrella was never the trustworthy, science recruiter. Wesker did not ever say so out loud, but there was no doubt that he demanded healthier women if he was going to successfully succeed with his plans.

If he could somehow figure out what Roger did in the past, then there would be no need to chase down Kick. Oh yes, there would be; he would have to compare combat data, something that he was not willing to do himself. Was it fear that he might lose because he did not know his limits, or was it because he thought that he was too good to get back onto the field?

"Time to let her loose," said one of the scientists, and Wesker backed away as they removed the unconscious woman from the table and dressed her in a hospital gown. Together, they left the room and sealed the door behind them, and the glass served as their window. For a while she lie there, still groggy, but then she started to stand as though it was her first time trying to do so. How familiar this was, and it all seemed like something that had happened yesterday rather than years ago. She did not speak, just squinted against the bright colors of the room and held onto the table.

In a way, this was sad and pathetic: grown men playing God with little girls. Men were always aggressive though, and less intelligent so there was too much care to be put into domesticating a standard Tyrant. Women though could be fairly easy to train, but they, like all women, develop a want for independence. Ergo, the dog bites the hand that feeds it. They were cat-like, tricky, very persuasive and appealing to almost any subject, including their creators.

Roger had to learn about that one the hard way. If only he were more patient, if only he would have stopped to think about what he was doing to her. Karma was a viscous cycle, and when it took a long time to come back around, it hits harder than anything ever seen. That is what happened to the man that claimed to be Wesker's friend, the man that said his work would never become or interfere with his life. Like Birkin, like Trevor, like Alexander, and many others before him, he was wrong.

The woman on the other side of the glass had now spotted them, and came closer. One of the men chuckled as she noticed the glass that separated them; it was a first and this could possibly show signs of a breakthrough.

"Don't get your hopes up," Wesker said, used to failure by now with this project. Mesmerized by the barrier, she touched her long fingers to it, letting them fall once she had gotten an idea of what it was.

Her mouth opened to release a croak, and for a minute she struggled to speak intelligibly with the men. "Hel- help me."

"This is amazing!" the shorter scientist exclaimed, turning to his colleagues, expecting them to have the same reaction as he did. Wesker only smirked and the oldest scientist rubbed his chin thoughtfully. There had to be something wrong with this one too right? Her eyes were red, she able to speak, so what about her was different? Soon he would find out.

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Tonight she had made a mistake, tonight she was alone. Claire had managed to catch Jill down in the kitchen, where she planned to interrogate her, but Patricia showed up, calling Jill away. Claire took in a deep breath, trying to control her anger, and at the same time try to understand why Jill had been ignoring her since her arrival. It was not just Claire though, for some time the only person she had been seen with was Patricia. Also, Chris had been on edge quite a lot with Patricia, especially when Jill was in the same room with them.

After taking a shower, Claire went to her room and got in her bed, but could not sleep. Her mind was all over the place, and she felt out of her comfort zone. Earlier, she saw Leon wandering through the house, but it appeared as though he was stalling for something. To Claire, it seemed like everyone in this house had an agenda, and it all seemed to frightening to inquire about. There was a knock at her door, but she made no move to answer it.

It should have been unlocked, but if it wasn't they had better find a key. This bed felt so comfortable right now, and she never wanted to get up from it. In the corner of her eye, she saw the door open, but it did not bother her who could be coming in. This place was completely safe, and she trusted that the team would not be there for the wrong reasons. She especially doubted that they would try anything funny if Chris was there.

Her eyes had drifted closed, and all she felt was a cold hand trailing down her cheek.

"Cut it out Leon," she had mumbled, but the intruder only chuckled, and it did not sound like Leon. Fearful of what would be there, she hesitated before letting her eyes open, before seeing nothing a shadow. Even her paranoia did not cause her eyes to adjust any faster, but she wanted to believe what her imagination told her to: that her nightmares were manifesting themselves. Even his silhouette was unmistakable, it was Wesker. She gasped and immediately after, he covered her mouth with his bare hand.

Then he began whispering something to her as he stroked her hair, and her fear was what was actually keeping her in place. "I'd watch out for your housemates if I were you dear heart." That nickname, it was so strange. What made him call her that? That bothered her more than the message, and that scared her about herself.

Maybe she did not want to think of what he had said, maybe she wanted to pretend that everything was actually fine with group. If they showed Wesker that there was any tension, then he would take the chance to break their lines and back them into corners. It was not beneath him to turn one teammate against another, and when he did it, he preferred that it end in bloodshed more than anything else. To him, making sure the enemy was dead meant that you had actually won.

The room was quiet, Claire could not even hear her heart, though she was sure that it could be heard pounding by everyone in the house. It was hard to make him out, but Claire could still see him leaning forward to her, feel his cool breath against her skin. He removed his hand from her mouth, only to replace it with his lips. As soon as it started, it was over.

Claire practically jumped from her bed, panting and gasping, clutching her heart the whole while. Wildly, her eyes scanned the room, searching for any signs that Wesker had been there, as if there he would leave any. It was just a dream, but one day it would not be. Inevitably, he would once again serve as her walking nightmare.

A/N: I'm almost too tired to type this: Leave a review.


	4. Laqua

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna who have yet to be introduced are mine too. I also don't own Laqua.

Ever since Wesker had infiltrated her dream, Claire felt like she was in danger every second of everyday. She had been training all week, and yet vulnerability was something that humans never could eliminate. No one spoke as they ate, not even Jill, who was on the other side of Chris. So close to Claire, but her brother blocked her view of the brunette. Patricia was at the head of the table, -of course- Saul was at the other end, and Leon sat between Rebecca and Kick.

After taking a bite of bacon, Chris swallowed some orange juice. "Are you gonna tell 'em?" he asked out of nowhere, and everyone looked at Patricia. Claire was the last one to stare at the blonde, and she soon figured out that Patricia had a procrastination problem, even when there were important matters to attend to.

Patricia nodded and swallowed. "There's been some activity in Tokyo. Every Friday, two men in black -Caucasian- meet and exchange packages."

Kick scoffed. "Two white guys trading bags in a foreign land. There's definitely something up there." All of them but Patricia giggled.

Stone-faced and tired, Patricia rubbed her eyes and sighed. "We have to go to Tokyo tonight. Also because Hideki Ikezawa was murdered last night." Once again, Claire felt out of place as everyone's jaws dropped.

"Hideki was our biggest contributor and supporter," Kick informed her, still in shock. This guy had to be pretty important if it bothered Kick this much.

"We need to get there tonight. So pack your things right now."

-----

An hour later they were rushed onto the plan by what Claire assumed to be more AUA agents. Obviously, getting flights was no problem for them when they had American Government connections. Once on the plane, Leon decided to steal Rebecca's seat and sandwich Kick between him and Claire. Claire had a nice window seat though, but Kick muttered to herself as Leon flirted with the stewardesses that passed down the aisle. Rebecca sat behind Claire next to Saul who sat next to Patricia, while Chris and Jill were on the other side of the plane.

"Where are we going?" Claire asked, looking at her two friends with a smile on her face. Even though they were walking right into trouble, she knew that there was some time for fun at an amusement park, especially a park in Tokyo.

"A park called Laqua," answered Leon, munching on chips loudly. "This is gonna be so frickin' cool!"

"Sir?" They all looked up to see the oldest stewardess staring down at them, a smile on her face that they knew she wanted to be a frown. "I'm gonna have to ask you to keep it down."

"My bad sweetheart," he said, giving her a charming smile that made Kick shift in her seat. With that same strained smile, the stewardess walked back up the aisle, but Claire saw her roll her eyes at her friend. "What a bitch," he said putting his hand on the armrest. Kick gave him a territorial glare that Claire noticed, but she only giggled because she knew that it was Leon's intention to vex his comrade. Leaning over Kick, his face right in front of her breasts, Leon asked Claire, "'Didn't think your first mission would be at an amusement park in Japan did you?"

Still smiling at the way Kick was looking, she said, "Not really, but then again this is a group with you and Chris in it. Come one, how strict could it be?"

"Leon sit back, we're about to take off!" scolded someone from behind them. It was Patricia of course, obviously the fact that Leon was dangerously close to Kick upset her. Leon only peeked between the seats at the AUA official, staring at her with a goofy smile until Kick smacked him on the head, causing him to jerk back.

"What was that for?!" he cried, holding his head.

"Sir!" The stewardess was standing a few feet in front of him; the fake smile was discarded and replaced with a scowl.

"Sorry hon!" Shaking her head, she returned to the front, and Leon's apologetic look faded back into the look of annoyance when his eyes turned back to Kick. She wore her sunglasses so no one could see her eyes, but as close as Leon was to her, it was not very difficult for him to see the red rings that encircled her pupils. "You're getting me in trouble!" he whispered harshly.

"Well, stop acting like an idiot," she replied, nonchalantly, playing with the earring at the top of her ear. Looking smug, Leon quickly reached for her shades, but he was suddenly attacked by his bag of chips. Smiling, Kick turned to look at Claire who was red from laughing.

"No telekinesis!" the chip covered Leon shouted.

"SIR!" The stewardess at the front of the plane was red as a tomato, and her neatly drawn on eyebrows were pointed down as she frowned. Claire swore that she saw a vein popping out on her forehead, so she did not laugh anymore at her friends' inappropriate airline behavior. Suddenly, the woman stormed towards them, her eyes on all three of them. "What are your names?!"

"Behind them, they heard Saul say, "Oh brother."

Shakily, feeling like she was in elementary school Claire said, "Claire Redfield."

"Leon Scoot Kennedy, sweetheart," he said, still joking around with the very serious woman.

Her eyes landed on Kick, who was not even acknowledging her. "Ma'am?" As though she had just arrived and missed everything Kick looked at her with her brow furrowed. "Your name," she repeated rudely.

Kick gave her an I-know-you-just-didn't look, before saying, "I'm Paula Abdul, who the hell do I look like?" At this, the woman's eyes widened, and behind them, Rebecca stifled a laugh.

"Kick!" hissed Claire, trying to keep her new friend from getting into any trouble.

"Kick?" repeated the stewardess. Claire placed her hand over her mouth, and she heard Patricia give an exasperated sigh. "Kick what?" Right then, even Kick looked confused.

"Kennedy!" Leon said suddenly, causing everyone to stare at him, well, their comrades behind them peeked over their seats to see them.

"The Kennedies?" asked the woman, her brows rose in suspicion.

"Of course, she's my wife." At Leon's last claim, Patricia kicked the back of his seat, causing it to noticeably move. The stewardess gave the blonde a stern look before returning her accusing eyes to Leon's. "She's just ready to leave Italy. Things haven't been the same since she left her country."

"Well, Miss Redfield and Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy, if I have to come back here one more time-"

"Yeah babe, we catch your drift." Giving a huff of disbelief at his chosen titles for her, she walked off so that the pilot could take off. After her back was turned though, Claire, Leon, and even Kick were grinning.

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"Well, Saul, looks like we're bunking together," said a red-cheeked Leon.

"Well, I'll be. Kick did a number on you didn't she?" asked Saul, examining his comrade's face. "What did you do?"

"Suggested that we share a room, a bed, and then we could fu-" This time, Kick's hand met with the back of his head, and considering that she was stronger than humans it must have been the equivalent of a fully powered punched. Holding his head, he grabbed her by the waist and held her to him. Everyone in the lobby watched them stand chest to chest, both looking fed up with the other. "Hey! Be nice!"

She said nothing, and they stood there for a while until Patricia cleared her throat. "Leon, I need to speak to you." Reluctantly, Leon released Kick, and went to Patricia who led him away from the rest of them group

"What was that about?" Claire asked, a playful grin on her face. Kick did not reply, she only shrugged and adjusted her shades. The night went by pretty quickly though, as Claire both dreaded and anticipated her very first mission with AUA.

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The morning had brought nice weather along with it. The air felt pleasant as the sun shone down on them and the wind blew a gentle breeze every now and then. Earlier, Patricia had commanded that they try and look as civilian as possible; they did not want to look suspicious, but rather like students. As they neared the gate to enter, the man in the ticket booth asked them a question in Japanese. For a moment, Claire looked around at the others, wondering who spoke Japanese.

It was Kick who was replying to him in the strange language. Turning back to the group she said, "Patricia we need $45.52 or 4800 yen, whichever you choose." Without a smart comment or the usual strange glare that she gave Kick, she handed her a roll of American dollars. Claire assumed that is what they got paid with, even though they were stationed in Italy.

"Arigato," said the smiling man as he gestured for them to enter.

Chris gave his little sister a smile as he commenced to tease her about her choice of outfit. "So, following Kick's example of a tube top and booty shorts?" Claire had let Kick dress her this morning, she said that she would look more American. Kick pretended not to hear him as she scanned the area.

"I said look inconspicuous," said their blonde leader. Happily obliging to her request, Leon placed an arm around Kick, who gave a groan of disgust.

"How are we gonna do this?" asked Saul, moving closer to Chris.

"Jill, let's ride the Skyflower!" exclaimed an overly-excited Rebecca. "That'll look normal."

"One ride Rebecca, this place is expensive," Jill muttered as her younger comrade dragged her off. Saul shook his head, and Claire remembered his question.

Ruffling Claire's red hair playfully, Chris said with a smile, "We need a diversion to get our hands on that suitcase."

"I can whip up a quick bomb," said a grinning Saul. Just looking at him, one could tell that he was all for destruction.

"My eye's on that restroom." Claire looked at the grinning Kick, but looked away as she adjusted her shades in very the infamous way that Albert Wesker did. "Claire, ready for your very first part in a mission?" Nervously, the redhead looked to her brother, then to Patricia, and then to Leon.

Giving her a reassuring grin, Chris said, "It's not gonna be a big part."

Pretending to be telling her friend a joke so that a passerby would not try to listen in, Kick said, "All you gotta do is go in the bathroom. When you feel a tap on your shoulder, I want you to scream, 'There's a bomb!' Claire nodded, showing that she understood, but she still looked afraid.

"Gotcha," she said, but Kick knew that she was still uneasy about this.

"Saul, get on that bomb," she commanded before turning back to her nervous friend. "Claire, don't wait for anyone. I'll make sure everyone's out before it blows."

"You're not that fast!"

"Like Sonic the Hedgehog on speed!" Leon exclaimed, making Claire feel a bit better. Even though she received an excessive amount of reassurance, Claire still felt as though something was going to go wrong.

Jill and Rebecca were back from the ride, and Saul had slipped the bomb to Kick after he returned from wherever he had gone to set it up.

"How do you know which one has the right briefcase?" asked Claire, looking to Chris for answers.

Surprisingly, Jill answered her question, but she did not look at her. "Well, the same guys come here every time, and the chubbiest one always carefully carries his case, while the creepy-looking one swings his like it's nothing." Nodding, Claire resisted the urge to try and look into Jill's eyes, knowing she would not look back at her.

"Ouch!" cried Leon suddenly. He rubbed his arm and everyone looked at him, concerned looks on their faces. "God, it felt like something just bit the hell outta me!" They ignored him, and went back to concentrating on the plan.

"Claire, let's go," said Chris, putting his hand on her shoulder and giving it an encouraging squeeze. She nodded, and tried to seem completely normal as she walked to the restroom. She hoped that time would slow down, but as always, when a moment is not anticipated time speeds up rather than down.

Once she was inside the clean and -much to her dismay- crowded restroom, she felt dizzy. No one occupied the larger restroom that was reserved for the disabled, and so she stood there in the corner with the door open. She tried to make it seem as though she was going in, but taking her time with it. It felt like forever as she waited for the signal that would tell her to save everyone's lives. If she hesitated for even a moment, then everyone in there could die.

She felt dizzy, and feared jumping the gun too early. This was too much for her first job! Then she felt it, the tap she had been waiting for. Turning around, she had gotten out the words, "There's a-" but she stopped as she saw a woman standing before her with her child squeezing her legs together. "Oh, sorry," she mumbled, moving to the side and allowing them to enter.

Deciding she needed to move elsewhere, she went to the trashcan, and an old woman started at her suspiciously. What was with her? Claire had been through the worst of the worst. Why should something so easy be so hard- she felt it. This time, no one near her had touched her.

Sucking in enough air so that she would be loud enough, Claire felt a rush of adrenaline. Then she screamed, "THERE'S A BOMB IN HERE!" For split second, it was quiet, but then everyone screamed and rushed to the door. Claire remembered Kick's words, and she managed to get out before the last half of shoving people. When she saw her group, she knew that she was at a safe distance.

Kick was suddenly beside Claire, and everyone looked at the bathroom expectedly. A few murmurs of doubt filled the air, and when most of the peoples' eyes were taken away from the restroom, the explosion happened. They watched as it rumbled and fell to the ground, expelling debris and a few people who had no idea of what was going on rushed away from the scene.

"Awesome," breathed Saul, admiring the strength of his creation. Claire saw Leon return, panting and out of breath with a suitcase in his hands.

"He dropped it in the confusion!" he exclaimed, excited that his job was so easy. Suddenly, he ducked when his eyes saw something. A small object whipped by them and would have hit Leon's head if he had not noticed the man perched on a nearby building. Umbrella knew, and now they were pissed. "Shit!" the brunet yelled as he watched them Umbrella agent flee, looking upset about his failed mission.

"Oh no," breathed Patricia. Claire and the others turned their attention to a pretty high Ferris wheel, and they watched in horror as something caught fire. "The bullet hit the box!"

"We gotta evacuate this place now!" Chris yelled, taking off in the direction of the ride. Patricia, Rebecca, and Jill ran off to get everyone out of the park, loudly updating them of the current and dangerous situation. Claire followed the other to the Ferris wheel, not knowing how to help. "That asshole!" Chris hissed suddenly when he discovered that the operator had fled in fear. Everything was in slow motion to Claire.

Parents, friends, spouses, they all watched as their loved ones panicked and cried for help as the fire rose higher. Saul, as big as he was, moved the crowds back, making promises that Claire feared they were not going to be able to keep.

"Claire, help us!" Leon and Kick were opening doors and helping out those who needed their assistance in exiting the shaky capsules. Claire's eyes kept wandering back to her brother, who was operating dangerously close to the flames. Someone sprayed them with fire extinguishers, but nothing could put the flames out. This was no accident, it was a controlled fire that was not meant to be put out by such measures.

It seemed like it was forever when someone shouted, "That's the last one!" There was an explosion, and Claire turned to see Chris shielding himself as he ran from the controls.

"Let's go guys!" Chris yelled, but only Kick remained in the same spot, staring up for some reason. "Kick that's all! Let's go!"

"No." Even though she could barely hear it, Claire knew that that is what her friend said. They watched as their friend threw her hair into a ponytail, and jumped onto one of the hubs.

"Kick no!" cried Leon, Chris placed a hand over his chest, and used his free one to point up to where Kick had been looking. Two patches of black hair could be seen, even from that far down. Firemen had arrived, and for a moment they paused to watch the small woman scale the humungous wheel.

"She'll be all right Leon. If anyone lives, it'll be her… you know that."

"My son!" a woman cried.

"Son?" Leon turned to look at his friends. If there was only one child unaccounted for, then who else was on the Ferris wheel?"

-----

Climbing was no problem, but as the fire heated the metal Kick had to make sure her hands were not on the same spot too long. Once she got to the middle though, it was cooler. Below her, her friends were worried for her, and for the children up there. She could hear one of them yelling and screaming for help, but not the other. Something was wrong. Giving a sigh, she jumped to her left, deciding that she would jump from capsule to capsule.

"Great idea," she muttered to herself, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Let's make these things into egg shapes. Of course who else can jump from one of these things to the next?" As she jumped to the side again, a flash of Wesker's grin entered her mind, causing her to lose focus, and her foot slipping, causing her to fall five feet before catching herself again. "Son of a bitch!" she hissed, and she listened to her friends gasp.

Now the rest of the group had returned to watch her daring rescue. Angered, Kick made a huge leap to her left, and made one more before jumping onto one of the silver capsules and steadying herself. She bent her knees, and like a cat, jumped up. She was unable to land on top of the egg shaped capsule, but instead she lifted herself up onto it after catching the edge. After steadying herself again, she took a deep breath and repeated the process six more times until she reached the capsule next to the one that imprisoned the remaining children, or child.

She could not see who was in it, but she watched the door fling open, and she used all of her might to grab the side of the small entrance. As soon as her whole body was inside the capsule, she saw a little Japanese boy in the corner of it.

Smiling sweetly, she said, "Konnichiwa." Something slammed into her nose, and she was knocked into the seats next to the child. A man with black hair grinned at her as she noticed he had knocked her shades off, and the sight of her eyes caused the boy to gasp. "You bastard!" she growled, and tackled him into the seats on the other side. He gave a cry of pain as the capsule rocked angrily, and Kick saw a flash of silver. A loud BANG could be heard, even by those on the ground, and she fell back onto the seats opposite of the man, only to stare at the bullet that had barely pierced the flesh over her heart.

A worried look fell onto his face as she removed the bullet and pushed it onto the boy in the corner. "A souvenir kid," she mumbled as she took the gun from him in a flash and turned it on him. "Sayonara," she breathed, and pulled the trigger. This time, someone was hurt, and she watched the man sink in the seat. Relieved, and unbelievably drained, Kick turned to the boy and extended her hand to him.

"Come on baby," she said, pulling him into her arms.

"Arigato!" he cried as she prepared herself for the climb down. In one quick look at the dead Umbrella agent, she saw that he was not as dead as she believed. Her eyes widened as he began to laugh. In his hand, he held some kind of remote, and with a look of defiance, he raised his other hand to press a button. Not sticking around for him to go through on his threat, Kick jumped down a bit and secured herself between the steel bars. So that she could hold the small boy in a way that would protect him from the fall, she pressed her back into a piece of steel, and with just enough pressure not to bend the bars, she held her feet against another piece.

Below them, there was an explosion, and her friends were running back, along with the child's mother and the firemen. The Ferris wheel groaned in protest as it swayed toward the rest of the park.

"Close your eyes," she chanted to the child, over and over in Japanese and English. She almost did not feel them falling, but she could hear screams, and could feel the boy digging his nails into her shoulders. Since they were side ways, she could not jump, so she just made sure that all vital parts of the boy would not be injured. The only thing that was as hard as the steel on the wheel that could protect the child was her. Once again, she did not feel anything, but heard crashing and more screams as the wheel met the ground.

"Kick!"

"Toru!" She wanted to sleep, to lie down and relax, but she could not. Instead, she mustered up the strength to climb through the bars of steel, like solid spider webs that held her back. Once she had tripped over the wheel, and a few booths that were caught in its path, she looked up into the eyes of a grateful mother, who was so overcome with joy that she did not notice her red eyes.

Over and over she shouted thank you to the small woman, and before the paramedics pulled the child away for inspection, he thanked her and gave her a smile before handing her back her shades. Patricia and her friends looked at her with what seemed to be reverence, and in quick moment, Leon was embracing her. Her hands remained at her side, but hesitantly, she accepted the hug and held him tightly in her arms.

"I was so scared," he whispered. Tears were coming from her eyes and Leon knew because the front of his shirt was soaked. Soon, she felt more arms holding her, embracing her and filling her with love. Through all the people though, she saw that one person refused to join in: Patricia. This time, the look she gave her was more than one of dislike or annoyance.

This look was dangerous.

A/N: Ferris wheel thing was inspired by "Mighty Joe Young." Laqua is a real park, and I really have to go right now, so just please review!


	5. Taken

A/N: Well, yesterday was my birthday peps! I'm 17 and it snowed… and I'm sick! I'm getting old but oh well, that's how it goes.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna.

Claire watched Kick sleep soundly and despite the fact that she was in a deep slumber, there was still barely any sign that she was breathing. Leon was next to Claire, his eyes locked on their friend. Rebecca decided to share a room with Saul, but only because Leon practically begged to be in the same room as Kick.

"She thinks she's indestructible," he said suddenly, but he kept his voice low. Feeling sympathetic, Claire leaned her head on his shoulder and began rubbing her hand in circles on his back. It was obvious that he cared deeply for her, and that hug back at Laqua proved it. The look on his face when the Ferris wheel plummeted to the ground was unforgettable. Never had he looked like that back in Raccoon City, not even for Sherry, the little girl that Claire had lost.

"She's trying to make up for things she's not sure she even did." His eyes lit up a bit when she turned and stretched. To his dismay, she did not wake up, but it was best that she stay asleep. "Claire, we were lucky today. We almost died… on the same day."

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"Goddammit!" A glass flew into the yellow wall, and small fragments of it busted out into the air. A grinning brunet, very buff, took a sip of his champagne. "What the hell are you smiling at Bartleby, you fucking failure?!"

Ada looked nervous and she tried to calm her boss down. "Wesker-"

"Don't!" he yelled, standing at the head of the table. "Reigns almost killed Ramirez, and you," he pointed at Bartleby, "missed Kennedy!" In one last display of Wesker's rarely seen temper tantrums, he picked up one of the spare chairs and threw it at the wall, knocking a portrait down along with it. "What are we doing here people?" he demanded, his voice returning to its normal volume. "And Gianna, what did you do?" he asked, staring at the beautiful Italian woman next to Ada.

Flipping her long black hair behind her, the olive-skinned woman gave Wesker a smile." I secured the tracker on Kennedy," she almost sang. For a moment, Wesker stared at her and he realized what irony this was. No time to think of that though. "I've dispatched men already. Isabella should be in our custody, and everyone else will die-"

"No," he interrupted, taking a seat at the head of the table. "Just get me Ramirez. And if you cannot accomplish that task, bring me the Redfield girl." At this, Ada's eyes narrowed, but Gianna only nodded her head, always complying and always faithful to her boss.

"Thank you," he said, and that was something else that was rarely heard from him. "Meeting adjourned." Everyone left, even Ada after hesitantly closing the door. This left Wesker with time to think about his next move. If he couldn't take something of Leon's, then he would settle for something of Chris'.

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An hour ago, Leon had got into bed with Kick after telling Claire to pray that she did not wake up. As she lied on her side, Claire watched Leon stroke Kick's cheek gently after he managed to get her head onto his chest. How strange they behaved; they were like teenagers. They played around while in public, but when they were in a more intimate setting the games ended. When Claire opened her mouth to speak, she looked at Leon's face, and saw that his eyes were closed.

With Leon's chest, Kick's head would rise and then fall when he breathed out. Yawning, Claire turned over, trying to sleep, but for some reason there was no desire to do so. She had a feeling that something was going on in the room, like her intuition was trying to tell her something desperately. Over time, she learned to trust those instincts, but only because she had found out that anything could be going bump in the night. Quietly, she got out of bed and looked around the small room.

Inhaling and praying, she stood up and went to the closet. In the movies, things always popped out of the closet, and she had also learned that Umbrella was a cliché all in itself. Slowly, she forced her shaky and reluctant hand to grab the knob, but it would not turn. Why did fear have to be such a strong feeling, and why was this so hard to do when she had faced so many horrible things in the past? Taking another deep breath, Claire finally managed to turn the knob, and she held the air in her lungs as she awaited the worst.

Nothing happened. Old hangers were the only thing that occupied the closet, and those were not scary at all. Now she needed to check the bathroom, and that would be even harder to do; it was dangerous with the glass, sharp objects, and the tub. The door was already open to that room, so all she had to do was flick the lights on, but even this seemed to take forever. Taking another deep breath, Claire groped the wall, trying to find the switch.

Well, she already knew where it was, but she was stalling for time. Bravery was viewed as stupidity, and this was stupid. Feeling that she would later regret it, she flicked on the switch, and was once again met with an empty room that only inanimate objects occupied. Filled with relief, she had to hold the walls to keep from fainting. How her luck had changed over time.

Still, there was a feeling of foreboding, and there was nothing that anyone could say to make her feel better. Trying to shake off that feeling of dread, she walked back to her bed and ran her fingers through her hair. She needed to sleep, but she could not, and soon she realized that the discomfort was at its greatest when she was near the bed. Maybe she needed a shower or to splash her face with water or something. She turned on her heel, but something had caught her.

Whatever it was, it was not letting go, and even though she did not want to, Claire looked down. Around her ankle, there was a gloved hand, and only then did she notice the arm extending from beneath the bed. Her mouth was open, but no sound was coming out of it. Then, the person tugged, and she fell to the ground, catching herself on her elbows. Another had shot out to grab her other leg, but a sharp noise that was barely audible made the intruder stop and scream.

Still in shock, Claire watched her bed bounce up and down as the person underneath writhed in pain. Who had caused this?

"Move," a voice commanded. When Claire heard Kick's voice, a rush of relief swept throughout her, but once her eyes landed on her comrade's she felt afraid. Claire was just getting used to seeing the blood-red orbs, but they had changed into another strange color. Now, they were silver, and they were staring at Claire angrily. "Move!"

Following her friend's instructions, Claire jumped to her feet, and felt Leon pull her onto the bed with him. As Kick ripped the man from beneath the bed, Claire felt Leon's eyes groping her face, but she did not realize why until she saw Kick jump onto Claire's attacker. She plunged her face into the crook of his neck, and the man began screaming in pain, as though it was worse than being shot. Leon's hand had found Claire's eyes, but she pried it away and watched as Kick's teeth tore into the man's flesh hungrily. Blood gushed from the wound, even though Kick's mouth covered it.

Gradually, with Kick's aggression still increasing, the man's cries became weaker and his arms stopped flailing. A whimper left Claire's lips, proving that she was indeed afraid of the drastic transformation that her friend had made. At the sound of fear, Kick turned to Claire, her eyes now a dull red, making her appear tired and frankly a pathetic creature.

"Claire…" she said, straining so that the words would come out. She seemed so inhuman, and so out of control. Something came crashing through the window, and it would not stop. Claire felt Leon pull her down to the floor as bullets crashed through the windows, but the curtain stopped the glass from going far. Looking as though she was only annoyed by the barrage of gunfire, Kick stood up, but only flinched whenever a bullet hit her.

Why were none of the projectiles going through her, why were they barely piercing her body? Umbrella was accomplishing something, and that was a frightening thought. A man was heard ordering a command, but Kick only cocked her head to the side and stood in front of the door, waiting for them to attack. The telephone rang, causing Claire to jump in Leon's arms, but he only answered it as quickly as possible.

"Chris?" he asked, panic in his voice. "You too? All right, Kick's taking care of 'em here." He paused for a moment, and looked at the blue-eyed girl in his arms. "Of course I will." Saying no more, the receiver fell from Leon's hands, and he reached under the bed with his now free hand. A growl could be heard erupting from the enraged Kick, and a few seconds later, Leon pulled out an automatic gun from underneath the bed that he and Kick had been resting on.

Claire felt Leon stand up, and she watched the door to the room fly open. In that instant, Kick had vanished from the room, probably to face the men outside. Leon told the younger Redfield something, but she did not hear him over the cries outside of the room. All she heard was gunfire and curses. Every now and then someone would scream, but she tried to block it all out as the image of Kick feeding on that man intruded her thoughts. She could not stay in here anymore, God she had to get out of that room.

Somehow, she got to her feet after stumbling on her hands and feet. Then she was out the door, but that turned out to be a mistake as she ducked when bullets were spit at her. Leon yelled her name, but said nothing more as he continued to shoot at their attackers. Claire saw Kick simply breaking necks or throwing punches, and that proved an effective method; the men did not return to their feet.

"Claire," someone purred, and she turned to see a short woman standing behind her, arms folded. Kick turned to see the newcomer, but she only stood there, as though it was impossible that the woman was there. With the same ease that Kick showed when she was pulling that man from beneath the bed, the woman, pulled Claire up by her shirt. The tumult ended, and the mean stood still. "Kick, come with me. You're needed back at Umbrella."

"Uh, how about, screw that idea?" replied Kick. A smug look came over her face, but then it abruptly disappeared as a loud crackling noise took her down. In the hands of one of the men, was a long rod, no doubt electric. They were treating her like an animal, and it only made it worse when they lassoed an electric chain around her neck. One man held a remote in his hands, and every time he pressed the button, Kick would cry out in pain and thrash about.

His finger was ready to go down again when Kick yelled obscenities at him, but the strange woman stopped him. "Bartleby, that's enough!" A light Italian accent could be detected in her voice, and once more, Claire looked up at her.

"Aw, come on Gianna, I was just having fun-" he stopped when a gun was fired, and he stared down at his hand. Leon smirked as the remote dropped to the ground and the man known as Bartleby screamed when blood began trickling from his hand. "You son of a bi-" Kick whipped past him, stopping behind him to steal the rod from the other man. Claire could not look as her friend beat the men with the rod, until they were all motionless. Gianna only nodded her head at the moves Kick was making, and Leon had made a dive for the remote.

Turning back, Claire watched the brunet tuck the remote away, and once again take aim at Bartleby, who had managed to escape Kick's warpath.

Leon chuckled as Bartleby stared at Kick, who was still killing men. She was still taking bullets like they were nothing but the Hot Tamales Leon threw at her on Claire's first day, as though she was invincible. "When she gets a whiff of your blood, you're a goner." Claire had never seen Leon look so smug at the prospect of someone being murdered, but then again, this man was trying to kill them. Right then, Bartleby threw a pleading look at Gianna.

"Run, you idiot!" the Italian woman hissed. Her partner ran with speed that most humans would kill for. He was human though, and that meant that he was one of Gianna's weak points if she let him stay around her. Claire was still only able to sit there; she had never dealt with something like this before, even though she had managed to escape scenarios a hell of a lot worse than this. "Damn you, Kick!"

Then Claire felt something hit the back of her head, and all the noises of the world were gone. Then, the sight of Leon and Kick being attacked by more men faded to black.

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"Go get Claire, Leon!" Kick's words came out in a growl as she broke a man's neck. Leon was ducking behind a bullet-filled car as other men shot at him. He would only pop up from the behind the black vehicle when he took a quick opportunity to shoot back at the men who were without a doubt, Wesker's men.

"I can't take Gianna!" he yelled back, and Kick paused as she realized that he was right. Even though she could save Claire, she could not leave Leon here; they would kill him surely.

"Fall back! Retreat!" The unexpected orders made Leon and Kick frown. Why did they go through all that trouble?

"She's gone." As the words left his partner's mouth, Leon understood that this was all a distraction so that Gianna could safely take off with Claire. No one was to be killed, and the real reason they had come was for Kick. "They're gonna offer a trade." At her last statement, the brunet's head snapped in Kick's direction. "Wesker's gonna offer Claire up for me."

Shaking his head, Leon muttered, "No."

"Don't worry. Because I'm gonna kill him." With a sincere face, she turned her head in the other direction; she had heard the rest of the group coming before Leon did. Chris could be heard crying his sister's name over and over again, but that was only because he knew that she would be gone. "Wesker's wants a war," she said, nodding her head to herself. "Fine. He's gonna fucking get one."

When Chris rounded the corner at full speed, the two friends stared at him sympathetically, and yet his female comrade still managed to look angry simultaneously. "Claire!" he cried, when she was nowhere in sight. "No!" Soon, he fell to his knees, crying out his sister's name over and over. Once again, even when she had the best security ever, she had been taken.

His failure had once again caused her to be put in danger. It caused her to be put into the hands of Wesker.

A/N: It's short I think. Well, the next chapter has Wesker in it, so that's a plus! Claire comes face to face with the man of her nightmares! So review and I'll update sooner!


	6. Oh, Those Eyes

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna.

The only sound Claire heard, was a melodic voice that sang along with the foreign music that came from the stereo. What language was that? The pronunciation was familiar, but before she could name it, the radio was turned off.

"So, you're awake huh?" Claire finally opened her eyes, deciding that feigning sleep would do her no good, and it would not make time go by any faster. She missed her friends, she missed her brother, and since she knew that Wesker would be at her destination she was even nostalgic for the nasty attitude of Patricia.

Turning her head, she saw the side of Gianna's face, and as she stared at her she noticed something about her nose. From the side, Gianna looked like someone she knew, but Claire could not think of who it was. Then her eyes wandered to her right hand, where a tattoo of a rosary was that also went up her arm. Where had she also seen that?

"What are you staring at?" she asked rudely, turning her head to throw her hostage a dirty look.

"Where are you taking me?" the redhead asked, knowing the answer. It was a typical question to be asked by someone in her position though, and she did not want to let Gianna know her true thoughts.

Giving a scoff, she answered with another question. "Does it matter really?" She gave a sigh of disappointment before saying, "God, now I have to explain why I couldn't get to Isa- Kick." Claire caught her mistake, even though she tried hard to cover it up.

"Isabella? Is that Kick's real name?" For Claire, it felt like she had found a piece of the puzzle, as though she was actually good for something other than bait. Gianna did not answer, her icy glare was directed at the dirt road before her. Every now and then, Claire would stare out at the farms that were whipping by, but she was still waiting for her captor to answer her question.

"What the fuck are you still staring at me for?" asked Gianna, annoyed with Claire's accusing stare. "Ding, ding, ding! That's her name!"

"Have I seen you somewhere before?" Claire asked out of nowhere. The eerie familiarity that Claire could not place was gnawing at her brain. Something inside her was telling her to figure it out now, because in the future it might help. "Why'd you get that tattoo?" The car abruptly stopped, and Claire's seatbelt saved her head from hitting the dashboard. Mumbling to herself, she looked back up at Gianna, and saw her fist before once again succumbing to darkness.

Once again she was unaware of her location, once again she was disoriented. She was really getting tired of being knocked out, and she swore to herself that it would never happen again. However, she knew she would be, and knew this to especially be true because she remembered where she was being taken: to Wesker. Hating to even blink when he was in the vicinity, Claire opened her eyes to find that she was lying on a twin bed, carefully tucked in under dark blue sheets. Questioning the reasons for such comfort on her behalf, Claire heard humming.

Of course the person who was humming was the last person she would expect to be doing so. Wesker came through the open door with a porcelain mug in his hand, the usual smirk on his face that told when he was up to something. Apparently, he was in a very good mood, or at least that is what Claire determined when he extended his hand with the mug in it to her. She only stared at the steaming cup, and once he realized that she did not want it, he set the mug on the nightstand. Claire watched him closely as he took a chair from the corner and placed it in front of the bed backwards.

Now grinning, he sat in the chair, resting his arms on the top of the back. "Hello dear heart." Whenever he called her that, she wanted to puke, she wanted to charge at him top speed, even though she knew it would not harm his stone-hard body.

"If you think I'll hand over Isabella- oops, I mean Kick… you are sadly mistaken." When she pretended to slip at saying Kick's real name, it only caused Wesker's grin to widen even more. It disgusted Claire at how he found everything amusing, even when people threatened to cause his demise.

"You don't want your tea?" he asked, ignoring her attitude that was well merited.

"I don't know, did you decide to add some poison?" she asked, still trying to get to him. Had she not learned that no words that left anyone's mouth could cause Wesker to feel guilt or any feeling for that matter? Only words that referred to Chris would cause some stir in his cool demeanor, it especially upset him when one compared their characters, but Claire did not wish to die today.

"Suit yourself," he said, picking up the mug and taking a sip. Claire still stayed in her defensive position, not sitting all the way up, but holding herself slightly on her elbows. She imagined that she looked like prey, caught in a trap by a predator, which is exactly what she was.

"Why won't you just let this grudge go?" she almost whispered, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. She wanted to go home, she wanted to be with her friends.

Wesker only removed his shades and grinned as she gasped at the sight of those eyes. "Isabella got the better deal," he said, wiping his shades with a cloth that he pulled from one of his back pockets. "Oh Ms. Redfield," he sighed. "If only you understood the importance of 'Kick,' as you have so fondly named her." From the way he spoke, it was obvious that finding her was a necessity, and that a much darker Wesker would present itself if that goal did not come into fruition.

Instead of replacing his shades, Wesker placed them on the nightstand, seeming to be enjoying the discomfort his eyes caused within her. "Two years have done wonders with maturing you, dear heart."

Claire frowned at his comment, noting the way he looked at her. She gripped the sheets tightly, and he seemed to notice.

He laughed a little and rubbed his eyes, those cat-like eyes. "Do not worry Claire. I am a perfect gentleman." When he said her name, she felt a chill go down her spine, and then a mischievous look took the place of his playful one. "Sometimes though, certain situations may force me out of that character." His grip tightened on the chair, and Claire pressed her body into the bed, trying to shrink away from him.

This once again caused him to laugh, making the redhead even more disturbed. This was a side of Wesker that she had seen back on Rockfort, but she had been trying to forget it. The way he handled her was not the professional way that your normal kidnapper would, but the way one with his own agenda would. The way he looked at her, the way he pulled her by the hair or neck was unsettling, and she feared that every woman's worst fear would happen to her if she stayed here in this place with him.

Rubbing his chin, he said, "Of course, who's to say that I cannot keep you even after they turn over Isabella? You would make a great soldier, Claire." She gave a look of disbelief, but he only continued to speak. "Ada is getting up in age and truth be told, I do not wish to bestow upon her the same gift that was given to Isabella. Why that would result in disaster." The thought of becoming a monster, an experiment of Umbrella's made her eyes well up once again with tears.

"Just let me go," she pleaded. "I just want to go home!" His face seemed to light up at her cries, but she would not stop begging. They would not help though, it seemed that she would be forever caught in the line of those eyes.

* * *

"I want you to promise you won't screw me over." Kick was dreaming again, and she knew it. She also knew that this had happened in the past. That woman, Gianna was there, staring at her with sincerity in her eyes. Kick's words were desperate, and she knew that she must have looked pretty pathetic as she made this request.

"I love you too much for that," she replied. Kick felt a connection with her, one that was beyond her understanding. "You're my-"

Ever since that dream had cut off in such a weird way, Kick had been searching through Umbrella's files, coming up with nothing. There were no pictures in the only branch that she could hack into, those were in the central files that were beyond her reach. If she could not find herself, then she would look up that woman, Gianna. Leon hovered over her shoulder as she looked for the name, fortunately there was only one person with that first name.

"Gianna Abolhassan-Pernicci," Leon said into her ear before taking a seat next to her. "Interesting name."

"She works directly for Wesker," Kick said, perusing through her profile. "She's not expendable either. 'Says here she's a B.O.W. Half Arab and half Italian. I thought I was an unusual mix."

"Explains why she's almost as pretty as you," the brunet said sincerely, staring into her blood red eyes. Kick's eyes wandered to the spot on Leon's arm that was bandaged. Before leaving Tokyo she had deduced that they had been so easily found because someone had been tagged. "Staring at my sexy battle scars?" he teased.

Scoffing, she turned her attention back to the screen and saw that the woman was the same age that she was estimated to be. Why was Wesker enlisting the aid of such young women? Kick was barely twenty, and so was Gianna.

"She looks kind of like you," Leon said, staring at the picture of the mysterious woman. Upset that he would compare her to someone so immoral, Kick reminded him of why they nicknamed her after the word "kick." He rubbed his shin and hissed in pain. There was nothing more for her to see, so she closed it all down and rolled her chair away from the computer. "Going to bed?"

"I've had my sleep." Kick twirled around in the chair as she thought of her dream, and what the next word from Gianna's mouth might have been. "I think we were lovers," she said suddenly, thinking of the tattoos she saw on Gianna's wrists. One was a rosary, and the other was the same Arab saying that was on her own ankle.

"Matching tattoos don't mean anything. Maybe you were just close friends. You're both half Arab." Leon seemed determined to assure Kick that she was straight, and not anything else that would keep her away from him in a certain sense. Kick grinned and rolled back over to him, staring into his serious face, while amusement loomed on hers. "Admit you're not attracted to me," he dared, still looking serious.

Still grinning, Kick placed one of her always cold hands on his face, and let it slide down to his neck. As she rubbed her thumb over the smooth skin of his throat, she looked like she was thinking. "I dunno, Gianna's kinda hot."

His serious demeanor unwavering, he said, "Get out of here with that bull." His green eyes did not show their usual playfulness, but that did not change Kick's attitude toward the subject at all. "If anything, she's your sister."

"I dunno, in that memory we were on the verge of locking lips."

"Incestuous sisters."

Giving a scoff, Kick rolled away from him in the chair, and once again began twirling around in it. "You play too much." She was now staring up at the ceiling, so it surprised her when his face appeared above hers.

"Who said I was playing?" Where was the playful smirk that he was usually seen with when he was making the false advances on his comrade? Kick had also forgotten most of the male ways along with her past. "So you're saying that if I tried to take you right here, right now, you would just push me off of you and walk away?"

"Yep. After I reminded you of the reason you dubbed me with the name, 'Kick,' of course. You do remember what Patricia said about the chance that I'm contagious right?"

"Contracting it is avoidable." The brunet ran his fingers through her wavy, dark brown hair, and leaned his head in closer to hers. His eyes stared straight into those crimson orbs, but then she suddenly turned her head away.

"Stop looking at them," she said, for the first time ever showing that she was self-conscious about their unnatural color. Gently, he turned her face back to his, and continued to stare into them.

Trying to make her feel better, he said, "At least they're not like Wesker's." She tried to appear as though she did not sense any of the feelings Leon was showing towards her. She just pretended that they were talking like any other day, and that nothing they said or did was ever serious.

Reminding him of the talk they had last week, she asked, "Siblings?"

"Relationships change."

"Claire?"

"Everything's the same: friends." His lips were now closer to hers, and she could not back away from him. Truthfully, she was not sure if she even wanted to crush his feelings, for it would also hurt her. When his lips were almost on hers, she turned her head away from him, leaving the brunet disappointed and frustrated.

Rolling away in the chair, she said, "Patricia's coming." Leon gave a sigh and rubbed his neck as he listened to Patricia noisily come down the stairs. There was no reason for her to do so; whatever they were doing was done and over with. It was a least for now.

* * *

It had felt so long since her kidnapping, so long since she had seen her friends' faces. Of course, according to Wesker's clock, it had only been a day. Were they even searching for her? Yes, they had to be; they cared about her, and her brother was no doubt struck with grief when she was taken.

Still, she wanted to rush time. Wesker had been keeping her holed up in that bedroom since she got there, not even allowing her to go to the restroom. She had asked to go, but he only shook his head. Now she was lying on the bed, her thighs squeezed tightly, and her eyes watering in frustration.

Her voice cracking, she asked, "Wesker?"

He turned in the chair in front of the computer and stared at her. "Yes Ms. Redfield?"

Knowing this was a long shot, Claire asked, "May I please, please go to the restroom?"

"We're leaving in a moment dear heart.

"Please?" She sounded pathetic, like a little child that was begging to go to the restroom. When he did not answer, she buried her face into the pillow to hide her tears. She had been holding it ever since she first woke up here, and he did not allow her to step a foot out of the bed. This was torture, and if she would have seen it in a movie first then she probably would have laughed.

Now that she was put in this position though, she would no longer be able to be so insensitive. Over and over she had whimpered, "Oh God," and Wesker still was not showing her any sign of sympathy. A few minutes later, she heard him stand up, and walk over to her. If he did not want for her to hear him, she would not have, but obviously he was trying to make a point.

"Stand up," he commanded, but she only looked up at him, afraid that if she moved she would have an accident. "Stand up," he repeated, his voice still stern with the same tone. Claire nodded, and sat up slowly. Then she slowly tried to get her feet to the ground, but Wesker was impatient, and he jerked her up by her arm. The redhead whimpered as she felt warm liquid trickling down her leg, and she felt more embarrassed than she ever thought she could be.

Wesker only frowned at this, but he could not be angered; he knew this would happen if he did not allow her to relieve herself earlier. This was not his problem though, and he would not play the villain with a heart. If Chris wanted to see how horrible he could be, then he would see it all.

A/N: I was going to lengthen this chapter but I just decided not to since I have writer's block. Just wanted to tell y'all that. Some reviews would probably help ya know. Also, I do not know whether the contents of the next chapter should be considered M or still T. It's not really graphic but, someone tell how far is too far? Anyway, I've just been waiting for reviews... so help me out with the next chapter cause I don't wanna go too far.


	7. Wesker's Smile

A/N: There's a little Jill/Chris moment at the beginning… they deserve it…. Something I'll never have. Ooh, and Wesker's gonna be plotting, he's just so great when he schemes. And in case no one has noticed, I'm using some things from the third movie, because even though I think it was not that good, -I still like to watch it- it inspired this fic in a way or two… yeah.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna.

As his lips came in contact with hers, he felt a bit of resistance in her, but he did not stop. Even though she felt stiff beneath him, he as a man did not want to pass this chance up. After a while though, the unresponsive partner was causing him to feel guilty about the betrayal both were committing. Chris was his friend, and here he was, lying in bed with Jill to spite him for wrongs that were committed against her.

Sighing, he said in his Southern accent, "Jill, I can't do this. Neither can you."

"Saul." That was all she could say, there was nothing to say except that he was completely right. What Chris had done was long ago, and it was in the past. When he slept with Patricia, he was drunk. Ever since she caught them, Jill had been letting her insecurity show by constantly being around Patricia.

This of course, allowed no one in the house to forget that Patricia could not be trusted with anything. She knew that Chris was drunk; she knew that they should not have been alone. With Patricia though, it was obvious that these crushes were to be taken serious. First, she had sunken her claws into Saul, then Chris, but know she was dying to take Leon and keep him for good. When Leon was drunk though, the only woman that he turned to was Kick, and she was always there to watch him when the worst parts of being intoxicated plagued him.

Chris had messed up one time, and it was because he was looking for Jill. He and even Kick claimed that he slept with Patricia out of anger that the brunette was nowhere to be found. Even so, Jill wondered if Kick was not just trying to repay Chris for saving her from termination by AUA.

"This has been eating at you," he said softly. "This has kept you from having a relationship with Claire." That was true, Jill was afraid that she would turn Claire against her brother by telling her that he cheated with Patricia. God, Jill hated the blonde bitch, but she refused to allow her out of her sight. She also hated how she relentlessly pursued men.

At one time, Leon had bribed Jill to keep Patricia away from him so that he could spend more time with Kick. Patricia was not the one ruining Jill's relationship with Chris. Jill herself was doing that.

"You're right," Jill whispered, sitting up. "I'm so sorry Saul."

"Anyone can hold a grudge, but it takes a strong person to forgive hon." Those words had caused her to get up and sprint to Chris' room. He knew about her plans to cheat with Saul, but he did not try to stop her; he believed that he deserved it. With urgency, she banged on his door, pacing as she waited for him to come out of the room. It felt like an eternity had passed before he opened the door, and when he did, Jill said nothing.

Her actions spoke as she pushed him back into the room and began kissing him passionately. She loved Chris, and now she wanted him to know this. This man meant so much to her; he was all she had left in this world and she would not let a grudge be the cause of him leaving. Never had he pushed her away, never had he rejected her, but instead he cared for her like she was the world to him.

* * *

"Guys, go to bed. We'll figure out how to find Claire later." Patricia turned off the computer in front of her, and stared as Rebecca tried to desperately begin another search for Billy Coen. "He's dead."

Disgusted at her pettiness, Kick turned to the AUA official grimacing. "Shut the hell up." With a sympathetic face, the biracial woman turned to the brunette and assured her by saying, "It's okay Rebecca. You'll find him eventually."

Scoffing, the blonde turned in her chair. "What good is false hope gonna do for her?"

"What's shutting her down gonna do for her esteem when it comes to finding _anyone_?"

Seeming down and just tired of her boss' putdowns, Rebecca rolled away from the computer and stood up. "I'm goin' to bed." As Rebecca went up the stairs, they saw Leon coming down, telling his comrade to have a good night.

Knowing that Patricia was the cause of the sour mood and negative energy in the basement, Leon neglected in asking what the problem was. Instead, he just asked, "What have you found?"

"Firewalls and all kinds of shit," Kick answered, seeming more upset than she usually was. "Wesker's got this planned out for once. The only way we're getting Claire back is if we offer me up as 'the sacrifice.'"

"No," Leon said immediately. In the corner of his eye, Leon saw Patricia rolling her blue ones at his protest.

"Leon, I need to speak with you-" started Patricia, but Leon interrupted.

"Actually, I need to speak with Kick. It's important." Wordlessly, Kick stood up from the chair and went up the stairs, Leon at her heels. He did not care what Patricia was thinking or wanted to say about this; right now he was more concerned with Kick and what they were going to do about "them." After insisting that they go to his room, she gave in, and went inside his chambers with him. "You can sit on the be-"

The woman sat in the chair he had by the closet, and crossed her legs letting him know that she was serious.

"Why are you making this so complicated?" he asked, standing directly in front of her.

"What did I do?" she asked, only to be jerked up by the wrist and pulled to his chest. Staring up into his eyes she said, "Let me go."

"No."

"Leon, you don't know what you're doing."

"You have the power to stop me, and you're not doing anything, Kick."

"Stop." Her refusal to comply only caused him to roughly push her into the wall, but she still was not pushing him away. Instead of feeling angry, a memory flashed through her mind. Wesker was in front of her, doing the exact same thing, but the vision was gone in a flash. With one hand, Leon held Kick's wrists to her chest while he used the other to unfasten her jeans and unzip them.

She barely wore shoes, so that was a plus for him; it would be to remove her pants. When he plunged his hand into her underwear, she did not react, only sat there stone-faced, but when he found the spot that drove her crazy she could not suppress a moan. Her breathing became ragged as he rubbed her and began placing heated kisses on her neck. He could still feel her resisting, but he continued on kissing and touching her.

Then, without warning, he pushed her into the dresser and sat her on top of it. For a moment, they started at each other, and in her eyes there was submission. Glad that the fighting was over, Leon buried his face in her neck and hair, breathing in her floral scent. Gently, as though she was afraid, Leon felt her tugging at his belt. Plunging his hand into her thick tresses, he stared into those red eyes.

They were glassy, like she wanted to cry, and maybe she did. Suddenly, Leon felt a sense of urgency, like it was now or never. Getting off his shirt proved to be no problem, despite him trembling from excitement and fear all at the same time. As he struggled with unfastening his belt, he felt like a teenager, and this was his first time. He watched Kick's hands pull his belt in two, but did not mind the shortcut.

As he struggled with the rest of his clothing, Kick removed her jeans and underwear. Positioning himself between her thighs, his eyes never left hers. He held her by her hair once again, and gave her a short kiss. He was intent on looking at her, and he prayed that Patricia could finally pry her eyes away from the monitors.

* * *

Leon's prayers fell on deaf ears; the blonde leader sat in front of the security monitors, biting on her nails. The scene that played out before her was like a tragedy that she could not look away from. She watched as _her_ Leon made love to… that thing. Granted, Kick was beautiful, but she was a B.O.W. Kennedy hadn't even used protection.

Was one romp in the hay with her worth him dying or worse: becoming what she was? It hurt her eyes to witness him pumping in and out of her, into to hell. She wanted to release the tears that were fogging her blue eyes, but the fact that Saul was watching her, shaking his head at her behavior made her hold them in. This was wrong and she wanted Kick gone for good.

* * *

The phone was ringing, but Wesker was sitting on the plane and staring at the sleeping Claire. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he snatched the phone from the armrest of the leather seat, and angrily flipped it open.

His agitation did not change the fact that he was being interrupted though, but it did change the tone of his voice. "Wesker."

"Albert Wesker, this is Patricia Layfield: AUA official."

At this, Wesker's head perked up, and his eyes were no longer fixed on the slumbering Claire. "How may I help you Ms. Layfield?"

"It's about how we may help each other. You want Kick… I don't."

Wesker's mouth curved up into a lopsided grin as he thanked God for this luck. Now he would be able to kill two birds with one stone; now he would not have to plan getting Kick and killing Chris separately. A small betrayal was all it took, and it was bound to happen in the unstable AUA family. He knew that it was coming sooner or later; the official was always catty when it came to Kick, but he never thought that she would have the audacity to pick up the phone, tell him who she was, and admit that she wanted Kick gone. He had to stop himself from chuckling out loud at this, and think about what she was going to ask for in return.

"Are you there?" she asked, not sure he was still on the line. As if he would pass up a chance like this.

"Yes, Ms. Layfield. And what will you be demanding in return?"

"Just get rid of her, and I'll handle the rest- wait! I want to make sure they won't want her back."

This time he actually did laugh, and he checked to make sure Claire did not awaken. If she were to find out about this and relay the message to Chris somehow, his plans would be ruined. Claire always found a way out, but this time Wesker would ensure that she stayed wherever he left her.

He licked his lips and adjusted his shades before continuing his conversation with Patricia, still unable to believe this was happening at such a perfect time. "That can be arranged. How do you plan on getting her to me?"

"I plan on getting you to her."

Once again, Wesker laughed aloud, causing Claire to stir and mumble in her sleep, but she did not awaken. "My, my, you are making me a very happy man." He was sure the smile could be heard in his voice, but he did not care who heard or saw him at his happiness, except Claire.

"Glad to know that, and I also pray that you do not plan on getting rid of me?"

"Oh no, I may need your assistance once again."

"We're in Italy. Rome."

"Why, Ms. Redfield and I just departed that very place, but I shall send my men." As she told him their exact location, Wesker was still bristling with joy, a sight that very few people got to see. And in ways it was very sad that he would get such joy at this; he was happy that he would be uprooting Kick and using her for his future, and he was also joyful that he was one step closer to killing Chris. What kind of person is like that and has those kinds of problems so bad that they take the saying, "Misery loves company" to the limit? Of course there was no limit for him now was there?

At the start of his life Wesker allowed to do whatever he wanted, but when someone told him that he had to prove his worth he decided that he would rewrite the book to how he saw fit. None of that mattered to him though, because he was Albert Wesker, and he was about to get what he was after. To hell with those who tried to stop him, and to hell with the consequences, for in the end he would find a way to escape those too. The smile was still lingering on his face after he hung up the phone, ending the best negotiation he could recall ever having.

* * *

"I'm getting real tired of this," Claire groaned, sitting up from the cold, cement floor beneath her. Just as she lifted her head, she came face to face with snarling women, all banging on blood smeared glass that was -thankfully- unbreakable. I scream left Claire's mouth, and behind her she heard Wesker chuckling at her scare. The women looked normal, but a bit insane with their yelling and hospital gowns. As a precaution, Claire's brain told her body to back up, and she did not even know she was doing so until she felt her back against Wesker's legs.

"Hello, dear heart," he said, smiling down at her from his chair. Behind him there was a computer, and two men that were arguing over notes. As his gaze returned to the young women behind the glass, his smile faded away, and Claire wondered what he was thinking about. "I always wondered why Umbrella never chose to eliminate failed experiments," he said suddenly.

At first, Claire thought that he was talking to himself, but there were too many people around, so she assumed that his comment was directed at her. "Because they're sick," she spat, scooting away from him a little so that they were not in contact.

Nodding, he looked as though he was in thought. "Maybe so."

"There's no 'maybe' about it" she countered, raising her voice as if that would help him understand. Then again, she was in his terrain, so what he said was law. She was also taking advantage of this moment because she assumed that he would not display his temper in front of his colleagues. If he were to strike her before them, they would draw conclusions about his character, and Claire knew that Wesker hated for his character to be judged in moral ways.

"Trying to debate me, dear heart? How bold of you." Her assumptions proved to be wrong though; in a split second he was on the floor with her, holding her face close to his and gripping her hair by the roots. She let out a small whine, showing her discomfort, but he would not ease up on her. This did not catch the attention of the scientists in the room, and Claire felt like a complete fool to think that she could get away with smart mouthing Wesker. "Have you lost what little bit of a brain you had?"

He let out a soft chuckle, and now his lips were inches away from hers. "Redfield luck will not help you here dear heart." Her eyes remained open, but even so, Wesker knew that he was intimidating her. In his hands she was so fragile and small, and there was nothing that she could do to escape his grasp. "That's all right though. Isabella will be joining you soon."

His breath was cool against her lips, and for a moment she was lost in his eyes as she saw through his shades. As his lips moved closer to hers, she felt as though there were butterflies flapping their wings wildly in her stomach. Their lips did not meet though; instead, he pressed his forehead into hers and let out a dry chuckle. Her body shook in fear as the worst case scenario played over and over in her mind. But no, Wesker was too professional for that wasn't he?

Never would he lower himself to that. Would he?

"Relax _dear heart_." His voice sounded so evil, so full of hatred, but was it for her or Chris? Where was Chris? Wesker was losing it, and from how things were going right now, it was only a matter of time before he snapped. He was looking like he knew something that she did not and nothing could be told from Wesker's smile.

A/N: Please review and I will love you and update!


	8. Strangers

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too.

Dinner was going along fine that night, and it had not been so in a long time. Everyone seemed to be in a talkative mood, except Patricia that is. Chris joked with Saul and Leon while Rebecca and Jill threw Kick knowing glances. Even though Claire was missing and they had not heard from Wesker, they knew that they had to go on but still do their best to find her. As Chris grabbed Jill's hand under the table, she felt her cheeks grow warmer, causing Kick and Rebecca to raise their eyebrows in a playful way.

"Kick's not one to talk," Jill sang under her breath.

Embarrassed for the first time since she was found, she turned to see Leon staring into her eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked, before kissing her forehead.

"Leon and Kick sitting in a tree," sang Saul, causing everyone to laugh.

"Can we be serious?" yelled Patricia, standing up from the table, fists clenched. The group stared up at the blonde, confusion settling like a dark cloud over their happy mood. With eyes that were accusing and full of misery, Patricia scanned the faces of her team, hating every one of them with passion unknown. Then her eyes wandered to the window before them, a feeling within had compelled her to do so. In the distance, she saw a man preparing a weapon.

A smile threatened to creep across her lips and alert the others, Kick, always suspicious of her leader had seen the man. "Everybody get down!" Kick yelled, pulling Leon to the floor with her. No one asked questions, or tried to see the danger, but instead they hit the floor. Under the table, Kick tried to meet Patricia's eyes, but the window shattered and the deafening sound of the missile caused her to cover her ears. She was unsure of how long they were on the floor, but she could not hear anything anymore.

As Leon pulled her along, his mouth only moved, but no sound would come out. It was only then did she notice that they were in the foyer, standing in a circle trying to calm down. Kick shook her head and tried clearing her ears, which proved effective. They were hushed, but she heard her friends making escape plans hurriedly.

"Wait!" Rebecca suddenly exclaimed, getting everyone's attention. "Where's Patricia?"

"Everybody against the wall!" The sudden command alerted the group, and they turned to see a man in army fatigues holding a gun to Patricia's head. In her peripheral vision, Kick saw her comrades follow his orders, but the blonde's life meant nothing to her. "You, come with me!" There was no doubt that he was talking to Kick; behind her she heard Leon protesting, but the man before had his finger on the trigger.

"You think I care about her?" she asked, stepping back. As soon as her foot touched the ground again, a shot was fired, and Saul was on the ground, holding his side in pain. Rebecca gasped and left her position against the wall to calm him down. "I'm so sorry," Kick whispered to her fallen comrade, and this caused their attacker to grin.

"But you care about him? And the pretty boy too?" he asked, aiming his gun at Leon's head.

"Okay, I'll go!" she cried.

"Kick, don't do it!" Leon yelled back.

Turning to face him, her eyes were glassy, and she felt sick to her stomach with fear. "I love you." At that moment, the man threw Patricia to the floor, causing her to cry out in pain, only to grab Kick. Knowing she could take this human on, she tried to think of something quick, but something blunt hit the back of her head and sent her into unconsciousness.

* * *

Earlier that morning, Claire had woken up in an apartment. At first it seemed to be an apartment, but she later realized that she was in a cabin on Umbrella's grounds. Wesker was nowhere to be seen, and the doors were all unlocked. Perhaps he was confident that she could not escape, and even she knew that the chances were slim to none. Maybe he wanted her to get out and about, that was the only reason she could come up with for even this small amount of freedom.

There was a change of clothes for her lying on the rocking chair next to the bed, and she groaned when she saw that it was a "girly outfit." It was a sundress and flip-flops. Deciding that it was better than nothing, she showered and put it on, leaving her hair down. Normally she would object to looking "pretty," but no one she cared about was there to see this.

The cabin door opened without a creak, showing that it had been well taken care of, and it was hard to believe that the owner was Wesker. The quaint little cabin did not suit him at all, but for Claire it would have been considered something more of her style. When the door opened Claire was bathed with sunlight, and greeted by trees with flowers blooming from them. Maybe she was dreaming; this could not be a place constructed by Umbrella, this could not be a place where Wesker resided. In the distance, a little girl could be heard laughing.

Chris had once told her that at Arklay, there were lodgings for families and cabins. Was it this beautiful? Somewhere, Claire heard a stream and birds chirping happily. Maybe this was just a façade put up for the children that lived on the grounds. Deciding to check it out, Claire began walking down the path that would lead her to the other people, and along the way she prayed that this was not a dream.

On a separate path to her left, through the trees she could see a few children playing and running. She found herself smiling, and once again wondered when this dream would turn into a nightmare. She reached an intersection in the paths, and chose to go left where she saw the kids. A young woman, holding a baby passed by her, giving her a nod of acknowledgement.

Claire stopped at this, and asked, "Excuse me ma'am, do you work here?"

She spoke with a thick, Russian accent, and she looked apologetic that her English was not very good. "No, my husband, he work here."

"Oh. You're baby's very cute."

"Thank you."

"Do you know Wesker?"

"Oh yes. He very good with the kids. He is a nice man., but very quiet. And he can be a little strange." Claire nodded, trying to figure out if they were talking about the same Wesker. "He can be frightening, but not to the children."

"Thanks. I'll see you around?"

"Irsha."

"Claire." Irsha continued walking down the trail after saying goodbye, and Claire almost went into shock at hearing that Wesker was nice to children. Could he really be capable of being a kind person? As she laughter grew louder, Claire knew that she was closer to kids she saw laughing and playing. There was a large clearing, and the children were there, it was not her imagination.

Memories of her childhood with Chris flashed in her mind, and she thought of her parents. They were always there for them, playing hide and seek with them, until they were in the accident.

"I see you found your way out dear heart." Wesker had been standing in front of her for some time now, but for how long? In all black, he stood out in the day, and Claire could not deny that he looked handsome with that smirk on his face. A child greeted him and he smiled back at the little blonde girl. "Someone wants to see you."

That was the most frightening thing he could have said to her; he could only be referring to someone that she knew. With a fearful expression on her face, she closed the space between her and her captor.

Extending his hand to her, he said, "You look nice today." Once her hand was enclosed in his, she felt weak in the knees, powerless. She followed him to the mansion, to the elevator that took them underground, and she did not say a thing the whole way. Still, Wesker held her hand in his, slightly squeezing it. This was giving Claire an awkward feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she did not like it at all.

Was it because he did not trust her? If so, the feeling was mutual, especially after they were too close for her comfort yesterday. Being confined to the small space of the elevator with him did not sit well with her at all. She tapped her foot against the floor lightly, anxiously awaiting the doors to open. As soon as they did, Claire remembered why they were going down.

What face would she see today? Which one of her friends did he have in his possession this time? It was not Chris; he would have come right out and boasted about it. Upon entering the lab, Claire realized that something was missing: the women that were confined behind the glass were not thrashing about. Instead, they were all asleep, lying there in their prison.

Wait, they were not asleep, they were bloody and lifeless. They were all dead.

"Oh my God," Claire breathed. Still smirking, Wesker lead her to the other side of the room, and stared into the far left corner. "Oh no." A young woman was there, rocking back and forth, her dark brown hair draped around her. "Kick?" Claire asked timidly, knowing it was her friend, but praying that she was wrong still.

The woman's head snapped up, and to Claire's horror, it was Kick. Blood was caked around her mouth, her hand, and her eyes matched. As she approached the glass, Claire got lost in those crimson orbs that were full of pain and sadness. Reluctantly, Wesker released Claire from his grasp, allowing her to meet her friend at the barrier.

"What did they do to you?" Claire sobbed, only then realizing that she was crying.

"Isabella is Roger's greatest creation." The plump, short scientist from before appeared by Claire's side, looking at Kick like she was an exhibit. At this, Kick suddenly banged against the glass and let out a growl that made the man shudder.

"Fuck you Simms!" she yelled.

"Don't forget his last," the older scientist said. He was always standing back in silence.

"I would not say that boys," Wesker said thoughtfully rubbing his chin. The man called Simms tilted his head to the side in thought, seeming to be in on the secret that Wesker was speaking of.

Looking hopeless, Kick looked to Wesker, who had seated himself in the chair in front of his computer. "Wesker just let us go. Let Claire go, if anything."

"Not when Gianna has been dying to see you Isabella." Right then, the door slid open, and in walked the woman that had brought Claire to Wesker: Gianna.

"Isabella," she sighed, nearing the glass. Feeling too close to the despicable woman, Claire backed away from the glass. The look in Kick's eyes when she saw her was that of pure hatred, and Claire feared that she would break the glass open to get to her.

"Gianna Abolhassan-Pernicci." Kick's voice was cold, and she folded her arms across her bloody chest

"Done your homework on me?"

"Killing you is gonna be a hell of a job." Behind them, Wesker was pressing buttons, and the glass began to slide down into the floor. As soon as the barrier was gone, Claire saw Kick step to Gianna, but something caused her to fall to the ground in pain. Around her ankle, there was some kind of shackle that must have shocked her. That was the only thing that Claire ever saw take her down.

If Kick was down and out, there was no hope. If only she could get her memories back and remember who these people were, what their weaknesses were… Of course, would that be a good thing?

* * *

Despite the day being sunny, the night had turned into the storm that Umbrella itself was. Menacing winds whipped this way and that, rain pounded down onto the cabin roof mercilessly, and deafening thunder shadowed the silent, flash of lightening that illuminated Wesker's bedroom better than any fluorescent light. He sat in the rocking chair, reading a book while she lie there in his bed, back turned from him to hide her tear-streaked face. The pillow beneath her head was soaked with her tears, and that spot was colder than the air outside. Wherever they were, it must have been based on Wesker's personality: suspiciously calm one minute and vicious the next.

"Isabella will be fine dear heart," he assured her, but his tone said that he did not really care what Claire assumed would happen. She felt him sit down on the bed, but she did not move. Disgusted, she grimaced as she felt him place a hand on her back. Then she noticed what he had referred to Kick as. For someone who claimed to be professional, Wesker loved calling her by her first name.

"Who made Kick?" she asked, turning to see him smirk.

"Your friends made 'Kick,' my colleague made Isabella."

"She had a life before this. I know she did."

His smirk faded, and a more serious look took over his face as another boom of thunder echoed in the night. "Believe me dear heart; her life was no better before Umbrella."

"What's worse than this place?" she snapped, sitting up and staring into his eyes, not even seeing his shades anymore. All she saw were those rings of fire, and those cat-like eyes. Wesker wanted to give a devilish grin, but the life Isabella lived before was not a humorous story that you add as a prequel to such a tragic ending. No, Umbrella was the best thing that happened to her.

There was no grin, no smile, no nothing. Wesker only cupped one of Claire's cheeks in his gloved hand, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "Some things are worse than Umbrella dear heart. We shall leave it at that."

"What's Gianna doing with Kick?" Claire's question came out as a whisper, but she had intended it to be louder.

"Helping her remember. Failure after failure. Duplications are not as good as the real thing."

"And that's why you'll never take me instead of Chris right?"

His breath tickled her lips, and memories from last night flashed in her mind. "There are other reasons why I will not kill you dear heart." Claire's head dropped. She was tired of this, tired of the riddles, and just tired of living a life where you had look over your shoulder in fear. She wanted to end it all, but that would not help her now would it?

His hand fell to her chin, and he lifted her head to meet her eyes. "Gianna will take good care of Kick. After all, she loves her." That statement was cryptic, and yet at the same time it gave Claire an idea of who Gianna really was.

* * *

"Hello sleepy head!" Red eyes met dark gold eyes, and Kick realized that she was face to face with Gianna. She tried to roll over on the large bed, but could not. Something was wrong with her, she felt weak and drowsy, like she had drank cough syrup.

"What the hell did you do to me?" Her voice was sleepy, and it was hard to even speak.

"Horse tranquilizers can even take down Umbrella's best." A clap of thunder caused Kick to jump a bit, but it did not cause the alertness within her to last. Red and white candles burned all around the bedroom, and a soft pop song played in the background.

"What the he- Is this a date rape thing?" Gianna laughed in her melodic voice, but Kick only frowned. "Glad to know I'm funny." Once again, she tried to sit up, but failed when her elbows shook beneath her weight. Her head bounced when it hit the mattress.

"You always did make me laugh. That's why I loved you Isabella."

Groaning exasperatedly, Kick kicked her legs, and looked down to see that she was wearing different clothes. "_Ay, Dios mio_. You changed me."

"'Wasn't the first time, don't be bashful." The Italian woman laid down next to Kick, and ran her fingers through her hair.

"So you and I were… Aw man!" Gianna giggled at how drained she sounded, but at the same time she looked hurt that Kick was disgusted by her past. "What's my name?"

Propping herself up on her elbow, Gianna stared down into _her Isabella's_ eyes. "You were born a few minutes after me. That's why we had a bond. We have so much in common. Both of us half Arab. Both of us carry the same fist last name. You were born Isabella Abolhassan-Ramirez."

This gave her the strength to sit up, and the alert she felt was lasting. "But you're half Italian and I'm half Brazilian!"

"It is possible for a woman to be impregnated by a man at different times."

"Fraternal twins." To a regular human, Kick's words would have been inaudible, but Gianna heard her loud and clear.

"My father was Stephano Pernicci. Yours was Angel Ramirez. The two greatest men to ever coexist. But in the end they caused their own downfall. Mama's name? She does not matter. She was just the whore who ruined our fathers. Who ruined us."

"And yet we were lovers?" At that moment, Kick wanted to throw up everywhere. She wanted to burn anything and everything that would connect her to her half sister. Even the tattoos etched into her skin.

"We were all we had!" The eldest sister cried, desperately trying to justify their actions in the past. Nothing could make Kick feel better about being Isabella. Whoever that woman was, she wanted her to stay buried forever. To remain a stranger until the end.

A/N: Ew. I made them sisters. Oh well, I wanted this fic to be weird, taboo. So I couldn't stop at lesbian lovers! Of course y'all knew that they were sisters already. Dr. Abolhassan-Ramirez, they look alike, same tattoos. Well, that's not fair of me to assume you knew, they could have been married… that only works in certain states of America though. Whatever. If you think Kick and Gianna are sick, wait until you see how sick Wesker can be. I'm talking scary sick, the Wesker Resident Evil isn't allowed to show our censored country. So review, and I'll get closer to making Wesker a psycho, crazy, bastard… but sexy at the same time!


	9. Sick

A/N: I know I said there would sick Wesker in this chapter, but there is more sickness from the ex lovers/twins. I am just trying to get to the secrets of Kick so along the way Claire can develop even worse notions of Wesker and wonder about him even more. If she sees the things he caused to happen, she would think about him more, whether it be bad or good, but a thought is a thought. When you think about something, it gets bigger.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too.

The thunder and lightening had stopped, and the rain had become a light drizzle. Looking at the clock next to the bed, Claire saw that it was only 2:20 in the morning. Short gasps could be heard coming from the den, and it was in the Redfield blood to investigate anything that seemed even a bit out of the ordinary. The only other person in the cabin with her was Wesker, and it could not have been him. When she planted her feet on the rug, she remembered where she was: Umbrella grounds.

What if there was an outbreak? Unarmed, Claire crept into the hallway and made her way to the den. The sliding door was open a little, and she did not dare open it any farther. With one eyes, she peeked through the slit to see a woman sitting atop of Wesker.

When she realized what they were doing, she gasped. Mentally kicking herself, she needlessly covered her mouth and stepped to the side.

"What was that?" the woman purred. That voice belonged to Ada Wong. The short black hair only added to Claire's theory.

Sighing, Wesker said, "Nothing, just keep going." Not knowing why, Claire stepped back over to continue spying. On her part, it was sick, but for some reason she could not tear her eyes away from the sight of Wesker and Ada Wong. The Asian woman let out final gasp before getting up and gathering her clothes, which scattered behind the couch Wesker still sat on.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked. "Well, later today?"

"No, the Organization will be wondering where you are." He rubbed his eyes in annoyance as she asked him something else, but Claire was too busy staring at him. His shades were not resting on his where they normally sat. Then, his head snapped up in her direction, and Claire was locked in his fiery gaze. It was too late to run back and pretend to be innocent, but out of embarrassment, she did so anyway.

With flushed cheeks, she buried herself beneath the sheets of Wesker's bed, praying that he said nothing about this. Of course, Wesker loved embarrassing people, and he loved pain. She was disgusted at her own actions, and anything he said would only make things worse. When she heard the front door close, she knew she was dead.

"Enjoy the show dear heart?" When Claire turned, she expected Wesker to be standing by the bed, but instead, he was in it with her. Her mouth was opening to release a scream, but Wesker's bare hand covered it, muffling her cry of shock. Sure that she would not make any more noise, he removed his hand from her mouth. "Spying one me in my own home Ms. Redfield?"

"Maybe Ada should learn to be a bit quieter," she retorted. At this, Wesker rolled onto her, pinning her to the bed, and only then did she notice that he was still naked. "Oh my God," she said grimacing.

"_My_ home," he said in reply. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep Ms. Wong under out thumb. Good night Ms. Redfield."

Just as he was about to push off her, Claire could not stop herself from speaking. "Go fuck yourself." It was always in the Redfield blood to have the last word. It got Claire in fights, and Chris kicked out of the Air force. Something it did for both of them was get them on Wesker's bad side.

In a flash, Wesker had her wrists in his hands, pressed down into the bed on wither side of her head. Frowning, he looked in her eyes and put all of his weight on her. "You have no idea what Isabella went through here, but I can assure you Ms. Redfield, I will have no qualms about repeating it."

"I'm not afraid of you," the redhead lied. Especially now she was afraid. Tears threatened to reveal that fear; he could do whatever he wanted with her, and once more, the worst-case scenario played in her head.

He lowered his mouth to her ear, now whispering to her. "You should be." When he was this close her, Claire always felt as though he was working to restrain himself. Was he trying to stop from killing her or something else? Once again, he said, "Good night."

This time, she did not smart mouth him, but instead she let him get up. As much as she tried to fight the sleep that threatened to take over, she failed against it. In her dreams, Wesker awaited her.

* * *

Kick heard someone knock on the front door, but after Gianna left, she was more concerned with how she was going to get Claire out of that insane place. After Kick threw a fit, her _dear_ half-sister and ex lover sedated her again, causing her to be completely out of it. Since then she had been pressured to remember her past, and "how hard they had it." Obviously, their lives were pretty hard if they had to turn to Wesker for help. According to Gianna, they were very young when they came to Umbrella, and Kick was even smart enough to work alongside Wesker and one of his late colleagues.

They were sixteen and half, running from their home in Brazil, running from their family. Still though, they were on the same path they were trying to stray from and they ended up in Las Vegas, Nevada, where fate stepped in and introduced the twins to Albert Wesker. Gianna claimed that it was one of the scariest moments ever, but it proved to be the most beneficial. At the sound of Gianna's voice, the sedated woman struggled to sit up. Suddenly, Wesker was sitting next to her on the bed.

Gently, he took her in his arms and lied down with her, holding her as though she was a baby. "Gianna, leave us," he commanded, tucking stray strands of hair behind Kick's ear. The door closed and it was just the two of them. "Hello Isabella." She only lied there in his arms feeling vulnerable.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, getting no response. "I missed you. Roger did too."

"Who?" Her forehead wrinkled at the unfamiliar name. Even Claire's image was hard to remember in her foggy state. "Where's my friend?"

"In my cabin."

Suddenly more alert, she tried to push away from him." What did you do to her?" Her attempts at escaping his grasp caused him to grin, but it was better than seeing him mad.

"Why is it that everyone thinks that I would stoop so low?"

"Because I feel you would."

A bone-chilling chuckle left him. "Everything I ever did to you, you wanted it just as much as I did."

"I didn't want to be made into whatever I am. I'm sure of that."

I did not do this to you, Roger did." That name was easily striking fear into her now. Whoever this man was, he was obviously the mastermind behind everything, not Wesker.

"Tell me who Roger is," she practically begged.

"In time, you will remember."

* * *

It was hot, as all the days had been so far. Las Vegas was not the place the Abolhassan sister first believed it was. Taking a deep breath, Isabella hung up the payphone, and turned to her sister who was squinting against the brightness of the day. Across the street a junkie was pacing back and forth, swinging his arms impatiently as he awaited his dealer who would bring with him a sweet relief from the realities of Las Vegas. Disappointed with the conversation she just had with her mother back in Brazil, she folded her arms and looked into her twin sister's eyes.

"She wants to know… if we can send money." At Isabella's words, Gianna cursed under her breath. The two runaways began walking down the sidewalk, and the youngest prayed no cars stopped while the oldest wished fort he exact opposite. "Gianna? I don't wanna do this anymore. I though that's why we left Ciudad Juarez. Why we saved enough to get here, why we left Mama and the others behind. We might as well go live in Brazil with Mama and-"

Suddenly, her sister's head whipped in her direction, but they did not stop walking. "No! I am not going back there!" she shouted. Staying with her father for three years had earned her an Italian accent, and from her father, Isabella had a Portuguese accent.

"Ok, desculpe-me!" A year ago, their mother sent them away from Sao Paulo to Mexico to work closer to American men for American dollars. She always would say that their sacrifice would feed their other half-siblings, and the fact that they two were fraternal twins fathered by two different men only made their mother look like even worse of a person. "We're being like her know-"

"We have no choice! If we try to get a real job we risk deportation!" For the rest of the walk back to their apartment in the Mexican ghettos, they were silent. When they returned, as usual, there was noise from many of the tenants. After being hounded by most of the men there, they finally got upstairs to their own little one-bedroom apartment. Isabella went straight to their tiny bedroom, where she decided to nap.

In her light sleep, she heard everything: her sister bargaining with their dealer, and she wished the sounds of their "other" deal would just go away. Then she felt someone lie next to her. Upon opening her brown eyes, she saw Gianna, a smile on her face.

Still smiling, the Italian sister asked, "Want some coke?"

"_Laa_. _Ana mareed_."

"It's withdrawal, _habibti_."

"Well, I quit." Isabella bit her bottom lip as Gianna got beneath the sheets and rested her hand upon her hip. Without hesitating, she accepted a loving kiss on the lips, even allowing her twin to deepen it. This was the person felt most comfortable with, and Gianna felt the same way about her other half.

"We have to go, Gianna panted, finally breaking the kiss. All they had were each other, and since their fathers' deaths, they were the only ones who actually loved each other. The men who picked them up at night did not care about them at all, but they would not object to the lies they yelled out in the heat of the moment as long as they were being paid. That night, Isabella prayed for death as they stood side by side on that corner. The fact that they were twins and having a sexual relationship was already sick, but she did not believe it was worse than pleasuring strangers for money.

A black car came down the dimly lit street, and it stopped. The driver window slid down, and a blond wearing black shades poked his head out of the car. Pointing to Isabella, he asked, "What's your name?" Usually, the men just asked both of them to come, and it made her feel more comfortable knowing that her sister was in the same room as her.

"Isabella," she said after Gianna elbowed her in the side.

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"Bull."

He caused a certain discomfort in her when it came to lying and no other man could do that. "Sixteen."

"Get in," he commanded, the fact that she was underage not swaying his decision.

"Not unless my sister can come too." She had expected him to say no, but he merely shrugged and unlocked his doors. The next day, their lives changed. They had fallen asleep during the long, quiet drive, and when they woke up, they were in a strange town called Raccoon City. He took them to a house where they met an old, white-haired man they at first believed to be his father.

They were afraid of the man who called himself Wesker, but that did not stop Gianna from coaxing her sister into having sex with him. In return, he gave them something better than money that would encourage them to continue prostituting themselves, he gave her a real job. Wesker promised them a better life, and a bright future. He weaned them from cocaine and took them off the streets. Never had he told them why.

Was he just lonely one night and found two girls he saw had much more potential, or had he been searching for two science projects and they ended up growing on him? Would they ever know the answer? Would all of Kick's memories be so sick?

* * *

Once again, Wesker had Claire dressed in a "girly outfit": a blouse and skirt. Once again, she had to set foot in that lab that she saw all those women in, that she saw Kick in. The scientists, Simms and the older one stood before the glass barrier, staring down. Wesker had left Claire's side, bit he was nowhere in the room. Claire threw a glance at the closed doors of the elevator, and assumed that he was leaving her unattended.

Slowly, she walked to the middle of the room, dreading what she would see beyond the glass. Gianna was at the back of the room, having a hushed conversation on the phone. The closer Claire got to the scientists, the more eerie the room became. Kick was pacing back and forth behind the glass, holding her head in her hands while shaking it and mumbling to herself. Behind her, she heard Gianna place the phone back on the receiver, and her heels clicked as she made her way to Claire.

Horrified at the state her friend was in, she turned to the exotic beauty beside her, not knowing anything of her past with Kick. "What the hell did you do to her?"

"She's remembering," Gianna answered simply, as though it was obvious. The look on her face showed that she did have feelings, for whatever was bothering her, it looked as though it would soon cause her to cry. She folded her arms over her chest and watched Kick closely, though nothing crucial would probably happen. There was a hint of love in her stare, and at this Claire's eyes narrowed. Kick began muttering in different languages, and in the corner of her eye, she saw Gianna bite her lip.

The Italian woman looked so nervous and tense, but Claire thought that people within their occupation never showed such signs of what they called weakness. Despite the curiosity that was nibbling at the back of her mind, she did not ask questions, and figured that Kick would tell her all about it later, if she had not completely lost her mind by then. Then, the troubled young woman who was stuck in Umbrella's clutches fell to the floor and curled up in a ball.

She closed her eyes and held herself tightly, as though something could hurt her. Insanity is what this place was, and the proof lay before her, a shell of her former self, Kick began sobbing at the painful memories rushing through her mind. Then the elevator doors opened, producing an upset Wesker. Not caring about the mood he was already in, Claire stormed in his direction, hands balled into fists at her side.

"You son of a bitch! What did you do to her?!" Pounding her fists against his chest, she repeated the same thing over and over, not caring how long it took to get an answer out of him. It would not be long though before he decided to stop her himself. Snarling, he grabbed her by her arms and pushed her into the corner by the elevator, pinning her up against the cement wall.

At first, he looked tired, and Claire remembered the fact that he had not slept at all since she was there. It appeared that he was actually trying to be frightening, when he normally assumed that he was just naturally that way. His grip tightened on her arms when he saw that the anger in her blue eyes was unwavering, and she knew there would be bruises left on her skin. The hate and sorrow was building up, manifesting into tears that fell from her eyes.

"What did you do to her?" she asked, her voice coming out in a whisper. Her shoulders shook as all of the emotions had built up into a knot in her stomach that caused her to tremble. At this, Wesker's eyes softened, a new side of him emerging that Claire never thought existed. Something else had softened him though, but what could it have been? She would not worry herself or spend the night pondering the cause of his mood; she did not care.

His grip was weakening, until he finally decided to let go of her. A gloved hand reached up to grab Claire's chin. His voice low, he said, "Such beauty should not be marred by symbols of weakness." Saying no more, he let go of her chin, now placing his hands on the wall on either sides of her head, but he said no more. He just stood there quietly while Claire continued to shed her tears, not knowing what she was even crying for any longer.

A/N: It's gonna get crazy, I'm sure you can tell from the strange behavior. I'll update soon! There will be more Wesker next chapter, I promise. Review!


	10. Wounded

A/N: Sorry for the wait… been… busy? I think… Yeah! Busy! My junior prom was last night, and I'm weak from dancing! … They were crazy. Me, wearing a dress?

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too. I also don't own the song used in here: "Wounded," it belongs to Good Charlotte. THEY KICK ASS!

The sound of tea pouring caused Claire to look up to see Wesker pull up a chair across the table from her. The sight of Kick loosing her mind played over and over in her head, only adding to her pain. Before him on the oak table, Wesker clasped his gloved hands, still looking incredibly tired. This was not the Wesker on Rockfort, the Wesker who had looked so confident in his strength.

Then he lit a cigarette, before speaking he turned his head and blew out a puff of smoke. "When I first found Kick and Gianna, they were sixteen and a half year-old twins who were at the same time half sisters. They were prostitutes and cocaine addicts to make things worse."

"Oh my God," Claire groaned. "I can't say I've heard worse."

After blowing out another puff of smoke, Wesker put the cigarette out and rubbed his temples. "They were also committing the abominable act of incest." Right then the redhead had to use her hand to keep her jaw from falling to the floor. Incest was one of the worst sins that could ever be committed by man, and Claire searched her mind for reasons any person would ever do something so disgusting.

Without even realizing it, Claire face of shock turned into one of horror almost. This was something you could not even expect to hear on Jerry Springer or other crazy talk shows. The woman that she knew, that had such high morals was a prostitute? Of course, Kick and Isabella were different people. She could never be that person again, Claire hoped.

Not smug as he usually was, Wesker cleared his throat, all the while looking uncomfortable. "Didn't think your friend was such an accurate description of a life gone downhill." Once again, he began rubbing his temples, but Claire hoped that whatever was ailing him caused his skull to split open.

"You act like you helped her," she said, taking a sip of her tea afterward. "You just made her _your_ whore. You're not even a man, just some _thing_. Her face twisted into a grimace, and she looked at him as though he was less than she was. "You're not even human, and yet my brother, and human, is better than you in so many different wa-" In slow motion, Wesker leaped at her, the table being knocked over in the process.

The hot tea was flying through the air and Claire was on her back, Wesker on top of her. Finally reopening her eyes, Claire did not see Wesker's face. The grip of his hands around her neck was weak, and the smug grin of an easy victory was not hovering before. Instead, she felt his head lightly on her chest, and she felt him begin to tremor. Wesker… was crying.

* * *

They were back in the lab, and Wesker had not said a word to Claire since he leaped at her earlier. She did not dare mention the emotion he showed, fearful that he would take offense at her repeating the scenario. Kick was asleep in a ball behind the glass that held her there like a caged exhibit. Every now and then, she would let out a bloodcurdling scream that even seemed to make Wesker uneasy. Earlier he yelled at Gianna to leave; she resisted him for half an hour before she decided to tell her sleeping twin goodnight.

"Is it that bad?" Claire's question had come out of nowhere, but she expected an answer; there was no one there to hear Wesker's reply. He uncrossed his legs, and then crossed them again.

"Yes." His answer was simple, very much lacking the much-needed detail.

"What happened?" she asked, turning to look at him. He was staring at her the whole time, and she did not have any idea until now. His face was unreadable, and he seemed tense and expectant. Claire stood up from the cold floor after tugging her eyes away from her friend who was not going anywhere anytime soon. As she slowly made her way to him, he looked surprised, that made two of them.

Bravery would not get her where she was hoping to go, at least that is what Wesker thought. Claire was a smart girl, she always seemed to be, but she had a habit of making dumb choices when she was around Wesker. That fact should have flattered him, satisfied him at least, but it did not. "Isabella will tell you that herself. It is not something you would like to hear from me."

At this, Claire looked down, and Wesker's hand appeared in her view. "Come Ms. Redfield. Let us call it a night."

* * *

Like so many men before him, he watched, but something about him made her sick to her stomach. Whenever they had physicals, she prayed that another scientist would do it, not him. Wesker had tried to calm her nerves every time, but nothing seemed to settle the queasiness that threatened to send her into unconsciousness. Especially around him.

__

Lost and broken,  
Hopeless and lonely.  
Smiling on the outside,  
and hurt beneath my skin.

"Ms. Ramirez, Roger will not do anything to hurt you."

"But I want you to do it, not him!" she exclaimed, holding him in place by his arms. Pleadingly, she looked into his blue eyes that were not covered by his shades for once. She loved seeing his eyes, loved it when he was being so caring towards her, but she hated it when she was left in the care of Roger. Whenever he was around her, she felt like she was being scrutinized by his hazel eyes that he hid behind unneeded glasses. More than anything, she wanted to crush them under her feet.

__

My eyes are fading,  
My soul is bleeding.  
I'll try to make it seem okay,  
But my faith is wearing thin.

Gently, Wesker caressed her face before pulling away from her. Just when the door closed behind him, it reopened, spitting out Roger. She wanted to gag, to run and hide under the examination table. If it would guarantee escape or postponement of this moment, she would take that opportunity. Her mouth kept forming Wesker's name, but no sound ejected from her quivering lips.

__

So help me heal these wounds,  
They've been open for way too long.  
Help me fill this hole,  
Even though this is not your fault,

This was it, and she knew because she felt it in his gaze. This would be the day that Roger finally got what he wanted: her. Slowly, he removed his glasses, looking calm, but also looking as though he were plotting something. Without warning, he lunged at her, and they landed on the cold, hard examining table. Upon impact, Isabella cried out in pain, knowing there would later be a bruise on her back, but all she could think about was how Wesker had left her alone with him.

And yet… she could not hate him…

__

That I'm open,  
And I'm bleeding,  
All over your brand new rug.  
And I need someone to help me sew them up.

In an attempt to stop him or at least slow him down, tried to push him away, but her training had her sore. The strength had not come to her yet, only the proof to her body that she had been working. She just wanted to work for Wesker, nothing more, and she just wanted to be away from this man. Then she dug her nails into his face, catching him off guard in that one moment caused him to cry out and back away. As he held his face, he backed into the counter, knocking over the things on the counter.

__

I only wanted a magazine,  
I only wanted a movie screen,  
I only wanted the life I'd read about and dreamed.  
And now my mind is an open book,  
And now my heart is an open wound,  
And now my life is an open soul for all to see.

Taking this opportunity to run, she pushed herself off the table and ran for the door, but he caught her by the waist, picking her up and swinging her around. Then he pushed her into the table, causing her to hit her ribs against the steel. In pain, she fell to the floor, holding her injured ribs while tears sprang forth. As she tried to stand, she let out a hiss of pain that almost sounded inhuman.

The only thing she could manage to say was, "Gianna!"

__

But help me heal these wounds,  
They've been open for way too long.  
Help me fill this hole,  
Even though this is not your fault,

Then she fell back to the ground while Roger straightened himself out, preparing to once again attempt his assault. Something made him stop though, instead of continuing his attack, he stopped and looked to the door. It was Gianna who stood at the threshold, staring in horror at the shape her twin was in. After taking in all the damage that the sick scientist had done her disheveled sister, she ran to her, crying as she realized that Isabella's ribs were broken.

"Isabella!" Gianna tried to help her sister to her feet, but she pulled away from her in anger. Where had she been earlier when she was telling her that this would happen eventually? She felt like a child that no one listened to, and right now, she hated Gianna.

__

That I'm open and I'm bleeding,  
All over your brand new rug.  
And I need someone to help me,  
So you come along,  
I push you away,  
Then kick and scream for you to stay.  
Cuz I need someone to help me,  
Oh I need someone to help me,  
To help me heal these wounds,  
They've been open for way too long.  
Help me fill this hole,  
Even though this is not your fault,

Throwing both of them hateful looks, Isabella limped out of the room, holding her side in pain. She did not know how long she had been walking down the hall, but she did know that she was alive because of the pain. Still, she did not hate Wesker, for he could not guess that Roger would go so far today; he would never allow someone to harm her. Would he?

"Let's go." The voice behind her was so warm, but only to her. Everyone else believed it to sound cold and hateful, but she knew that was not the case with her. She was being lifted, but very gently into his arms. Eventually she gave way to sleep, but all she thought of was how much Wesker was like a father to her.

__

That I'm open,  
And I'm bleeding,  
All over your brand new rug.  
And I need someone to help me sew them,  
I need someone to help me fill them,  
I need someone to help me close them up.

He could have been her father if he had her at a young age, but at other times, she saw him as more. Father by day, but lover by night, and yet she did not love him in that way. Wesker was more of a friend, someone she could trust with anything. She trusted him more than Gianna, and that was saying something. Wesker did not hurt her, not once from what she could recall, but how long could such a wonderful thing last?

* * *

Heart breaking, eyelids falling, Leon waited by the phone for word from Wesker. Most of their things were packed up and being shipped to another country. Wesker knew their location, so now they had to leave.

"What if they get away and we're not here?" Leon sounded desperate and too hopeful at this thought. It was true that Claire and Kick were determined women, but at the same time could it be expected that they would just knock on the door and have a happy reunion? Jill gave him a squeeze on his shoulder, and managed a weak smile before being called away by Chris. Leon felt like Rebecca: waiting and waiting for someone that had been gone for so long.

Claire was his friend, and just when Kick and he made progress as lovers, she was snatched away from him. Only Patricia sat near him, staring at him as though he were a pathetic shell of a man. Oh sure, lust still resided in those blue orbs, but she found it disgusting that not even grief could throw him into her arms. He would not speak to her; something about their leader was off, and Leon knew that Kick had been seeing it the whole time.

Kick…

Claire…

An urge to pick up a bottle was overcoming him, attacking his mind. If that were the only way to feel better, he would not take it; he would forget them. He did not want to forget them for a single second, for in that moment he would make a mistake. It would probably be the same one that Chris made, and Leon had left those days long behind when he survived Raccoon City. When he lost Sherry.

Even Chris was handling this better than he was, and that was his sister out there and the woman that he had saved despite his prejudice towards BOWS. If he could walk with his head high then so could Leon, but Chris had someone helping him through this hard time: Jill. She was the woman that he loved, and the woman that Leon loved was out there being held captive by Wesker, who was probably treating her like a lab rat.

"You gotta get up." It was Saul who said this, but Leon only stared up at him, looking through him actually. Nothing anyone said was going to help him right now. No, this was never going to get any better.

A/N: Sorry it's short but I gotta go do something right now! So review! AND HAPPY 4/20!


	11. Analysis

A/N: Well, the only reason I get to update is that like a jackass, I went outside at three in the morning to put the dog out… then I jumped from the brick thingy that separates the garden from the patio… then I punctured my foot in two places on the garden fence. I'm still in pain, and possibly have tetanus. Great… tomorrow I get shots… pray for me. Might update tomorrow too.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too.

At one time, he must have been nice, sweet, or even innocent. Although, when Claire looked Wesker in the face she thought of him as a child that showed little or no affection towards his parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins. There just seemed to be nothing there. At one point, could he have been a normal child? Did some traumatic event mold him into the man that he was today?

Was she trying to justify the fact that he was a murderer, sociopath, and just flat out crazy? If so, why would she look for reasons for him, why would she try to excuse him, the man that was out to get her brother? Her head hurt, and all she could stand to do was remain wrapped up in the blanket before the fireplace. Her head rested on the rug, and she hated that she knew what had gone on, on that couch. She found that she was becoming accustomed to him; she could feel his stare on the back of her head, something that she was incapable of feeling before.

His once cat-like ways earned him stealth, but her senses were attuned to the sneaky ways of Umbrella by now. What Claire did not know was that he was contemplating something crucial. The scene was melancholy, and Wesker seemed different from how he was when they first met. Ah, when they first met…

He was frightening, that deep voice causing her to shake from within, causing her to fear him. Strangely, though, after that encounter, she became somewhat used to his method of handling her. It was not a feeling for him, but it was the way she knew what he was thinking and where he would go next. Then she heard him, walking to her, his footsteps hesitant and at the same time anxious. Claire was half-asleep; barely aware of what was going on when she felt herself floating.

As soon as she felt the softness of the bed beneath her, she curled up into a little ball, and Wesker, seeing that she was cold, tucked her in. For a moment, his hand lingered near her face, as though he wanted to caress her cheek, but he decided against it. He did not need this, and he was slacking in his work because of how ill he had become. Procrastination had stopped him from calling Chris earlier; he still did not do it. Fed up with his change in demeanor, Umbrella had decided to send Chris their own note; they knew he wanted Chris, and they also wanted him dead for knowing of their secrets.

AUA was Umbrella's formidable opponent, and they made HCF look like a bothersome fly. Oh no, the headaches were coming back. Wesker stumbled from the bedroom, holding his head in his hands as he searched the walls for the bathroom door. Once he found it, he ran to the sink, coughing. He turned on the sink, and a mix of water and blood swirled down the drain. Groaning, he began stripping his clothes, and soon he was in the shower. Everything began to swirl, but the wet tiling could not hold him up, so he fell into darkness without feeling the shower floor.

* * *

For some time now, Claire was being awakened by the sound of water running. She could no longer shut out the noise, so instead of going back to sleep, she went to find out why Wesker would leave the shower running. The hallway seemed so long, so dark, and so narrow. It would make sense; she was dreading this. It could have been Ada, or someone she did not wish to encounter again that was spending the night.

Surely though, they would not be running Wesker's shower for so many hours would they? Gulping down the lump in her throat, Claire grabbed the doorknob, turned it, and let it swing open slowly. Steam leaked out from the other side, reaching out to Claire. Fearfully, she walked into the misty bathroom, seeing Wesker's clothes scattered about the floor. Never could she recall Wesker being disorderly, and normally he would have his clothes in the hamper.

If she were not on Umbrella grounds, she would have run, not caring what was going on right now, but she was on Umbrella grounds. She felt like she did when she was a child, watching scary movies that her parents tried to keep her from seeing. With Chris beside her, in awe of the gore and horror, Claire sat trembling and wide-eyed. Tears filling her eyes, she would try to prepare for the nightmares that awaited her, and the scars that would later come of her disobedience. The shower door was closed, and it was impossible to see through to some on the other side unless its occupant was right upon the glass.

Hand shaking, and wondering if Wesker was just being strange, deciding to stay in the shower, Claire slid open the door. On the shower floor, unconscious with a high stream of water beating down on his perfect skin, Wesker lie. At the sight of her fallen captor, Claire gasped and jumped down to him. After only a few seconds of being in the shower, she was soaked, but she did not care.

"Wesker!" she screamed, patting his face. No response. With all the strength she could muster, Claire pulled Wesker's heavy body from the shower, out onto the rug. He was not rousing, not breathing. "Shit!" she breathed upon realizing that she did not even remember if he could breathe.

Maybe this was a cruel joke, but if this was not then what was Claire going to do? There was a phone in the bedroom that he used to contact people on the grounds, so in attempt to save the only man that could save her from the less polite members of Umbrella, Claire ran into his bedroom and looked at the address book by his phone. Maybe someone would come to help him.

* * *

It began to rain just as the twins left the cabin, and by the time they were to Wesker's home, they were as drenched as Wesker and Claire had been. As the front door opened, Claire anxiously threw glances into the hallway, awaiting the arrival of Gianna. Seeming to come out of nowhere, the Italian woman maintained a slow walk to the bed, and Claire was surprised when she saw a dripping wet Kick leaning against the doorway. Something in glare made her seem different, and look more like Gianna than previously. Her eyes were aglow in the dim room, giving her an animal look as she lowered her head, making Claire think she was ready to pounce.

As Gianna sat next to the unconscious Wesker, Claire stood up from the chair she had waited in, and took a step towards Kick. At her advancement, Kick released a low, guttural growl from her chest. "Kick?"

"Stay away from Isabella!" Gianna hissed, but it was not meant to be a threat. She spoke with urgency and caution, as though she feared for Claire's life.

"What have they done to you?" Claire practically begged, getting no reaction from the younger woman. Not saying a word, Kick quickly made her way to Wesker's side, her twin removing herself from her path. Was Gianna afraid of her own sister, her own lover? From Claire's point of view, it looked as though Kick was going to kiss Wesker, but she only hovered over him as though taking in everything about him. Suddenly, with her fist balled up, Kick pounded his chest twice.

For a moment, Claire was afraid; nothing was happening, and therefore she assumed that she was trying to hurt the blond. Then, as Wesker jerked up and went into a coughing fit, she understood. On the side of the bed, he was coughing up coagulated blood that had apparently been stuck in his throat, so now she knew that he did breathe despite the fact that he seemed so lifeless. As he coughed up the last of the black blood, his golden orbs met Kick's red gaze, and in that moment, he had realized something.

Almost unbelievably, he asked, "Isabella?" No reply, she still had not spoken.

"She's a bit dangerous at the moment-"

As her sister and Wesker shared an embrace, her words stopped; she could not believe her eyes. Neither could Claire. It was not the embrace of lovers or comrades, but one of a father and daughter. Seeing Wesker like this scared her in a way, and at the same time, it touched her. That piece of Wesker that she had been searching for all the while was only shown when _Isabella_ was around.

Yes, that is who she was: Isabella, not Kick. Wesker stroked her sopping wet hair, and buried his face in her neck, making the hug seem like it was more intimate than initially intended. Claire would never forget that night; the night Wesker's walls were down, the night Kick had turned on her and AUA, the night that she saved Wesker's life.

* * *

He had sent the sisters away; he wanted to talk to Claire alone. After reviewing the events that had taken place, she felt embarrassed; she saved her captor, and she tried to forget that she handled his naked body. She blushed at remembering it, but only because this was Wesker.

"You could have left me there."

"I know."

"I may have been about to die for all you know."

"I know."

He was not sounding grateful; instead, he was interrogating her, analyzing everything about her. In a movement that shocked her, Wesker gently grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her onto the bed next to him. Sitting there, they stared into each other's eyes, both searching for truth, neither one trusting the other.

"Why?" he asked in a voice that could make anyone tell the truth.

"I don't know."

"So now you _don't_ know? What are you trying to do?!" he demanded, shaking her. He was overreacting, and he was scaring her. Why was he responding to her generosity with hostility? When he saw tears stream down her cheeks, he stopped, and released the grip that had been gradually increasing. The sight of her looking so vulnerable, so afraid, caused him to soften.

Not realizing what he was doing, Wesker wiped away her tears with his thumbs, holding her face in his hands as he did so. Was he really a nurturing being, or was he just losing it? This girl had saved his life, but then again, she had no choice. He treated her better than anyone else would even bother to at that God-forsaken facility and that was the only reason Wesker could come up with. There was no way that she…

Lost and confused, Wesker's hands fell from her face and he let out a sigh.

"Go to bed," Claire said, feeling like the superior one. He did not argue, instead, he did as he was told. Why was he so sick? What was it that was bothering Wesker? As much as Claire hated to admit it, she was afraid, afraid because she was worried about him.

If he was sick, how could she even hope to escape when there was a chance that Umbrella would treat him like a rabid dog? They would probably say amongst themselves, "Wesker is losing his touch," "Oh yes he's sick," "Well, it is time to put him down." Staring down upon him, she found herself thinking of him as handsome, thinking of him as normal. If he were normal, he would have probably aspired to be a model or an actor, and he would have made it. He would be on Claire's wall above her bed.

She would only be able to daydream about him, but never be able to touch him. He would have numerous women throwing themselves at him, as they still did, but this time there would be a myriad of messages left for him and requests of his company. This was not that world though, not the world in which he was kind or caring. This was a different world where he made up his mind to become something horrid, something that Claire wanted nothing to do with. She wanted to be able to see him as an equal, as a suit and tie businessman.

She wanted him to be the man with a wife and family at home, to be the man who gave to charities and often had family picnics. She wanted him to be a man that could feel and could love. She did not want him to be miserable and living out his days following the orders of Umbrella. Despite whom he was, what he was, she still wanted nothing but a regular life for him. She wanted a regular life for all of them; it would be better than this hell.

"You could never hate me." He was watching her watch him. She had not even noticed; she was so far gone into her own thoughts and wishes. "It's not in you Redfields, to hate someone. If I came to Chris and apologized, begging him that we start over as _friends_," he spoke as though the word stung his tongue, "he would agree."

"That's the benevolence of humanity."

"That's foolishness," he countered, looking straight ahead at the wall before the bed. In a way, he was making sense, and yet Claire remembered that he was Wesker.

"Why did you come here?" she asked. The caring feeling of the moment went unnoticed by them, and for that, Claire was lucky. Whenever Wesker had made a connection with someone on a personal level, he snapped and severed it. "Why are you, you?"

Turning his face in the other direction, he breathed, "Let me rest Claire." When he said her name, he sounded strange, almost alien to her. "In a way you saved my life and I thank you for that, but for now just leave me be." She could only nod and do as he said. After all, it was best to just leave it at that.

A/N: It's short but I gotta get some sleep. Pray for me and review!


	12. Tension

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too.

It happens everyday, all the time: Tension. Whether based on sexual desire, frustration, or any other emotion that causes anxiousness, it ruins anything in its carrier's wake. Leon's heart had been stomped on numerous times, but Kick's kidnapping had been the final blow, the last he could take. They had moved HQ to Greece, figuring that the farther East they moved, the closer they could get to Umbrella. If anywhere, they were in Russia, where they had allies still.

Jill argued against this theory though; they would most likely reside in a place doing well for itself, a place that had plenty of forests. If the man who ordered the creation of Arklay was behind this, it might have been hidden in a small paradise. Wesker had contacted them again, this time through email. They were to meet in Paris for the exchange: Chris for Claire. Nowhere in the arrangement had Kick's name been mentioned and Rebecca had convinced them not to press the matter.

Dear Rebecca, a woman who had suffered the most by not knowing whether the man who captured her heart lived or died escaping Raccoon City's forest. It was purgatory, limbo, not knowing Billy's fate. As soon as they unpacked the computers, she was there, faithfully searching. For this, Patricia mocked her, the reasons unknown. The blonde was vile and hateful, even Claire could sense it when she first saw her.

Even Leon, a man who wanted to see good in her, was losing faith in humanity existing in her. At the table, she stared down at her plate, stabbing broccoli with her fork before consuming it. No one spoke, no one joked, and only Chris, Jill, and Saul had hope. Patricia was apathetic, while Rebecca and Leon had given in to despair. Even though she searched, the young brunette had given up on finding the only person who cared to help her through the most horrifying even she ever experienced.

Giving a sigh and finally looking up, Patricia asked, "Why's everybody so quiet?" They met her answer with more silence. Saul opened his mouth to speak, but upon realizing there was nothing say, he looked down at his plate. "Fine, shut down because Kick's gone."

At this, Jill dropped her fork, and it clattered loudly against the china. The looks she held upon her face made her look as though she had lost her appetite. "Who says it's just about Kick?" Angered by their leader's insensitivity, Jill turned to meet Patricia's blue eyes.

Not at all affected by the glare of the brunette, Patricia said, "Well, I'm just saying-"

"Yeah, what you're saying is gonna get your ass kicked!"

"If I were you Valentine, I'd keep my mouth shut!"

"You bitch, I should've let Kick kill you!" All eyes were on Patricia, not Jill. This was unheard of: An attack on their leader.

Embarrassed, Patricia stood up and rushed off, mumbling to herself. "She attacks me and they still refuse to put the bitch down!" The air had changed, the confusion was gone, and Patricia leaving contributed to it. Suspicious as her behavior had become, no one called her out on it. Vicious as her comments were, very rarely was she challenged.

Finally, despite the scene that just played out, Saul found something to say. "Someone should go check on her."

"Fuck her." At Rebecca's words, Leon cracked a smile, causing Jill and Chris to chuckle. Claire had been overlooked tonight as a priority by Patricia, therefore he refused to defend her, refused to comfort her. No matter what, Chris would _never_ give up on Claire. Even if he had to give his life to Wesker, he would never give his sister to him as well.

0000000000000000

He was jittery, he was alert, and he could not stop thinking of how he and Isabella reined a great scientist. Roger may have deserved his fate, but Wesker felt somewhat guilty for the situation he had been left in. He remembered that day clearly, remembered the blood, and remembered the screaming that had terrified even him. Isabella had gone a bit too far, and the night seemed to drag on forever. Wesker hated those moments: thinking one cannot possibly live through something, but then morning comes and you have survived another day.

It was his turn to sit by the bed, watching over its occupant. He had no reason to watch over her, but still he would despite the lack of need to. It was almost afternoon, but he still could not wake her; she only had three hours of sleep. A Redfield had saved his life, and now what? Like a dog, would he feel the need to protect her life, to watch every move she made?

All he could do was sit there, hating every moment of this. He hated how she was there, how she was a Redfield, and how she was so damned resistant. If it were not for her fire and strong beliefs, she would make a great ally, and she would be a formidable foe to all enemies of Umbrella. Side by side, she and Isabella could rid the world of the disobedient, of the ones like those in AUA. To him, she was so tiny, so fragile.

If he wanted, he could break her as easily as he could break a fig. Did he look so fragile when he slept, did he look so peaceful and innocent? He hoped not, if so then she sat there all night in awe at how gentle he looked. No, she should fear him, just as Isabella did, although for Isabella it was more of reverence. Still, Wesker demanded that she respect him and remember who was in charge.

Even when she belonged to Roger, Isabella knew whom she _really_ belonged to. When she was engaged to him, she was still always in Wesker's bed, calling out his name. If he wanted, he could have Claire doing the same thing: Being untrue to her brother's beliefs, going against everything that AUA taught her. He could do it all without feeling remorse too. He could taint Claire's spirit and never once look back.

At least that is what he told himself. No human could cause so much pain and completely ignore his conscience. Of course, Wesker was no longer human, and that was what people easily forgot. Only Chris brought that fact up whenever a point that would credit his current case was needed. Oh, Chris. Wesker had been so ill that he had not even begun planning their meeting.

God, what was happening to him?

000000000

Every second, he loved it, every moan, he adored it, and every night he let his guard down. Truthfully, it disgusted her, having sex with him every night made her heart twist and turn painfully in her chest. She hated the way he gripped her hips, how he sounded when he called her name, and how he could not understand that she hated _him_. Over and over, he moaned out that he loved her, that he could not wait until they were married. She just wanted him to stop, to just shut up… forever.

He had betrayed her, made her forget. For months she could not remember Wesker or even Gianna. He had turned her into a monster, a science project, and now she would get her revenge. When they had finally finished, she disappeared from view, only to return with something hidden behind her back. Tired, he was rubbing his eyes, smiling, not noticing the robed Isabella.

It happened so suddenly, and he was shocked. A sharp knife plunged into his chest, but Isabella wanted to make a show. She knew what spots would kill him, and so she chose to let him have a head start. He screamed, he asked why, but in the end he got no answers. He did the only thing he could do: Run for help.

It rained so much there, and that night was no exception. Before she actually pursued him, the bloody knife in her right, she waited, knowing where he was going. He was heading to the closest cabin: Wesker's. Bare foot, stone-faced, and angry, she walked through the downpour. As she went down the hill, she slid a little, but she would not stop for anything. So many nights like this, she snuck off to Wesker's cabin, like a teenager, she came through his window while he slept.

Now, she was not really sneaking, and was not going to Wesker to "cheat" on Roger. Tonight she was ending this, and she would dance on that sick bastard's grave. Her feet and calves were muddy, and the rest of her was soaked. In the dark, her red eyes glowed and they never left the open door that spilled light out onto the porch of Wesker's cabin. It all happened so fast for her; she was in the den, Roger on his hands and knees while he begged that Wesker get help.

"Isabella!" Wesker yelled, backing away from his fallen colleague. He did not want his blood on him, and Isabella got the feeling that he was afraid. Giving up on Wesker, Roger rolled onto his back and stared into eyes as crimson red as his blood. He bled so profusely, and he pleaded so pathetically. She pled the same way when he forced himself upon her, holding her down on the bed.

The penetration of the knife through his white skin could never compare to the way her had done it to her. Even as a prostitute, she escaped the expected outcome. Never was she raped, and never had a man set out to ruin her in the long run. Wesker was still there, silently standing behind Roger like a statue. He was emotionless and unmoving now, only deciding to move when Isabella finally finished Roger's pathetic life. However, the blow that would do that never came.

000000000

"Whhhhhhhhhhhy?!" For hours, Isabella sat in the bathtub, wailing, misery causing her voice to crack. Gianna had given up on coaxing her out a while ago, fearing her younger sister's quick new temper. Her hair floated around her body like a black veil, and it was fitting; she was in fact in mourning. Should she remain Isabella, revert to Kick, or mix the two personalities?

A bigger, more important question was, did she deserve to live, even as a creature that had committed such heinous crimes in the past? At one time, she got pleasure out of being with her sister, but no it was disgust that replaced that bliss. The memory of Gianna's tan skin against her darker body made her dry heave, made her stomach jump. It was like trying to eat something you knew was gross, but you did it anyway because of a challenge or dare. That is exactly how she felt at the memories.

There was no bliss, no joy, just disgust. Only certain memories were coming to her, and they were the worst ones. Her father, she only knew of him right now, not about him. She was still trying to find her mother's face. Even though she hated hat woman, she needed to know her.

Whatever Gianna had done to her was bringing back her memories, giving her painful images that made her heart twist and turn. Of course, she could not sit in there all night and prune because of the past. No, she had to get up and stop sulking all of the time. Her black tresses were wet and plastered to her as she stood up from the water that had gone cold and hour ago, and her skin was dried out from sitting there in the water for so long. With her toes, she pulled the chain of the drain plug, and heard the water being sucked down into the pipes.

There was only one bedroom in the little cabin, disturbing Isabella to no end. She felt dull, lifeless, and every time she saw her twin she felt the urge to wash. Not even the sleep that pulled at her eyelids made her want to sleep in that bed, and her fear of the results of letting her guard down did not help. Being here was like being in a zoo, like she was a caged animal that was not yet adapted.

All she wanted to do was escape, but there was probably no hope for that. For half a year she eluded Wesker, and it all came down to this. How did Chris find her again? As she realized she never knew the details, her eyes widened. All she knew was, "Chris found me."

So, did that mean Wesker somehow lost her? Her memory had been gone since she could remember so… She clutched at her heart as flashes of the past raced through her mind. She saw herself in a cryogenic tank, but how did she get there? Why was she there?

She remembered stabbing Roger, but nothing after that. There was a wall, and her head began to ache when she tried to get past it. A groan of pain escaped her as she felt herself falling to the floor, and into darkness.

A/N: Sorry if I did not get rid of all the grammatical errors! I plan on updating today. I _plan_ on it. We'll see. I had to end this chapter like that because it was meant to be short. I wrote this about a week ago, just ain't put it up. Writer's block. So… review please.


	13. Countdown Until

A/N: Writer's block is a killer! This chapter is gonna be longer. There will be another long awaited Claire/Wesker moment, and short moments in the minds of Rebecca and Patricia. The latter sounds scary. There will also be a lot of short shots. One second you're with him, then with her. That's intentional… yeah. I might end up redoing this chapter after I submit it. I definitely think it could be better. Waaaay better.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too.

So many days here without a schedule to follow, but Wesker had come to her three days ago with instructions to be ready for a "trip." He trusted her, but she did not understand why anyone would. Gianna was running around the room, packing the new wardrobe she bought for Isabella, mumbling to herself about being late. The only good thing about this sudden trip was that her "dear" sister would not be joining her. For the first time since she began remembering things, Isabella was sane enough to dress herself.

This bit of independence, of freedom, it was enough to make her feel a bit more human today. Where were they going, and why? Would it be a confining country of business or an exotic place that was ideal for unwinding? There was no denying that she had a fried brain, and surely Wesker would take pity on her condition. He was all over her lately, breathing down her neck, and his body language frightened her.

Was she still his, or was he more focused on other things finally? She could not even say it mattered anymore; so much of her past was still shrouded in mystery, but maybe her mind was trying to protect her from herself. If that was the case then obviously her past was even worse than what she knew about it now. Still she struggled to find her father's face, and even that of her mother's. Gianna had given in and told her their mother's name, but nothing more was presented to her.

This woman may have done some horrible things in the past, but maybe she had changed for the better. Being in the condition she was in now though, how could Isabella even discern good from bad? Her future depended on her character right now, and how people would label her. One could easily argue their ways and beliefs, and in the end win the case. Great, put her before a court and they would give her the chair for her crimes.

She was happy to say goodbye to this place, despite the beauty of the living quarters. The façade would be missed dearly, but that was all it was: A façade. One could not live in a fantasy world forever, and yet, that is what the innocents chose to do at the facility. The children and spouses living there chose to ignore the abhorrent things taking place inside the Umbrella labs. Ignorance may be bliss, and they may have been ignorant to the specifics but they could not deny that they knew _something_horrible was going on within those walls.

In her memory, Isabella found that the scientists did not focus on the pain they caused, but instead thought of the recognition they would receive from the higher-ups. They were like dogs who could be satisfied with a pat on the head, or scraps from the table. Even as Isabella, -the despicable property of Wesker- she detested the scientists, and hated everything they worked hard on. Of course, she was no better as she worked to remain in Wesker's good graces, but all he ever did was throw her to Roger.

_NO! Wesker loved us!_

Whenever she though such things, something inside would shout back something the exact opposite. God, she could not wait to get out of that cabin, to get away from Gianna. Wherever they were going could never be worse than the spot she was standing now.

* * *

On the plane, Kick had been quiet, and Wesker seemed to be scheming. It did not take long to get to Paris, and ever since she infiltrated that sorry facility they had, Claire never looked at the city the same way. Sometimes she feared it, other times she just wished she could have torched the whole place. How could they be in allegiance with Umbrella? Were they still on their side, or did the pharmaceutical company's fall open their eyes to reality where monsters only resided under beds?

That did not matter now though; Chris did. Tomorrow morning they would make the trade and Wesker would finally get his hands on her brother, and the threat that he had been making for years might just be fulfilled. As Kick- no, Isabella sat in a chair in front of the small desk, Claire's thoughts were disturbed. She let out a yawn and pulled out a pocket knife before playing with it, treating it like it was a small battalion that could inflict no damage.

Speaking as though she was afraid of her old friend, Claire's voice almost came out as a whisper. "Kick?" Rather than answering, the petite woman only continued playing with the knife as though she never heard Claire's voice in the first place. "Isabella?" Claire did not want to call her that, for in that name alone, there existed a dark legacy.

"What?" she asked coldly, and it gave one the sense that they had never been friends in the first place.

"We gotta get outta here."

When Claire said this, Isabella's knife fell from between her fingers and onto her lap. With a confused grin on her face, Isabella turned her attention to the redhead. "And why the hell would we do that?" She sounded like Kick never existed, and like Claire's words had offended her.

Claire never dreamed that she have to give an explanation for this, so she searched for words, making her argument look weak in front of Isabella. In the beginning, she wanted out of here, and now she was questioning her fellow prisoner.

"I know you're still Kick!" she cried out. "You're still a good person-"

With unbelievable speed, Isabella jumped up from the chair and dashed towards Claire with the knife pointed to her throat. "Kick is dead and gone! And I plan on being the way I was!" Her breathing was shallow, as though the excitement had caused her to strain herself. "Things were simpler, and if you just let Wesker help you like he did me and Gianna, then things will get better for you too."

With glassy eyes that showed desperation, Claire stared up at the woman that she had once called her friend. This is someone she was willing to trust on the battlefield, but no one realized that Wesker had intended to turn them against the people that loved them. The creaking of a door caught their attention, and feeling caught, Isabella quickly put her knife away before turning to Wesker. A single tear fell from Claire's eye as Wesker neared them, his dark outfit causing the mood of the room to become even more morose.

Without a greeting to either of the women, Wesker turned to his favorite employee. "Go and do a quick check of the grounds." Slightly bowing her head, Isabella followed his orders, but not before throwing Claire a questionable glare. So many emotions could be seen in the look, but Isabella did not give Claire enough time to name all of them. When the door closed again, Wesker took a seat next to Claire on the bed.

Normally, she would move away or run her mouth. Today though, she felt no urge to do so, and all she had the energy to do now was look into her captor's eyes. Taking a deep breath, he wiped away tears that had increased in numbers. His gloves were gone, and his skin felt cold against her hot cheeks. As tomorrow grew closer with every tick of the clock, Claire felt her emotions collect in her chest and explode, causing her to tremble as she sobbed.

So badly, she wanted to fall into his arms, but on some level that felt like betrayal. She had already done that, but to do so on the eve of her brother's death felt like complete submission to this monster. She could no longer hold herself up, and Wesker welcomed her into his embrace. Claire knew what he was doing, and she understood that this was all a part of his plan to lure her farther in so that he could later gain her trust. Her hair was down, and she had neglected to comb it for two days, feeling there was no need to look nice anymore.

As she inhaled deep breaths, she could smell the scent of his skin, and never before could she recall anything like it. Normally men overdid it with cologne, and this fact would cause one to believe that this had to be all him. It was sweet, but at the same time something you would expect from a "real man."

"Shh." He tried to calm her as he stroked her hair, causing her to open her eyes. Still, her face remained buried in his chest and she noticed that the top three buttons of his shirt were undone. Maybe this was deliberate, and yet Claire wanted to believe that there was no secret agenda behind this. For so long she had been trying to search beyond what she could see and hear.

Now, all she wanted to was believe what was before her, and to stop straining her senses. He was so cold, and yet he breathed. So icy, but he was still a comfort to her.

"Poor child," he said, inhaling deeply. "How you must feel knowing that your brother's demise is only hours away." This comment caused no rise in her, instead she only began admitting to herself that in a fair fight, Wesker would win. Chris had been surviving off of luck alone, nothing more, nothing less. Knowing that it would not hurt him, she dug her nails into his back, hoping to release some of her frustrations. "Of course, you will live, and that should be all that matters to you at this moment."

Chuckling, he held her tighter, mocking her attempt at inflicting pain on him. "Soon enough though, you will be joining the ranks of Isabella and Gianna. It isn't as bad as your dear brother makes things seem."

Not even blinking at the tears that stung her eyes, Claire looked up at him without fear. "Fuck you." Her words caused him to go into a laughing fit, as though she were telling a joke that even Wesker could not be stone-faced towards. "I will never be yours. I could _never_be yours!" The smirk remained on his face while she continued her rant, and not a single word struck a nerve.

"You disgust me Albert Wesker, and in no way could you consider yourself a man. And even after you kill Chris you're still gonna be a pathetic piece of shit."

Behind the shades, she could see him rolling his eyes, but she wanted her words to stick. She wanted to cause him to rethink himself, and to question everything he had been working hard to get to.

"Maybe that's why Kick forgot you so easily huh? Maybe you are a man but not when it comes right down to proving it!"

Without warning, just the crease in his forehead, Claire was up against a wall with her feet searching for the ground. Wesker's grip around her throat was tight, and his teeth were grinding together in frustration. It always seemed that talking is what got her into trouble, but this time she wanted to get this reaction, to get beneath his skin. Seeing as she could not cause him bodily harm, she would hit him with words to bruise his ego. Whenever you question a male's manhood, things get serious.

His thin lips were formed into a snarl as he tried to speak, but he was too angry. Everything came out as a growl. After he had calmed down a bit, he seethed, "Save that fire for when you're fighting on my side." Claire felt his grip loosen and she cried out as gravity caused her to fall to the floor. There were no more threats, no more words as her dark captor left the room.

* * *

This day was bound to come, but Patricia had always boasted that she did not believe in karma. Once one has escaped punishment they believe that they have forever eluded persecution, but on various occasions she was proved wrong. Soon, their plane would touch Paris soil and she would once again have to lie her way through interrogations about the situation. Wesker said that he would make sure Kick was unwanted at AUA, but then again, Wesker was not known for taking care of anyone but himself. What if Kick wanted to return to AUA and she knew about her betrayal?

In no way was the mutt obligated to lie for her commander, unless Wesker had instructed her to do so. What you do in the dark always comes to light, but normally Patricia did everything out in the open to avoid such a backlash. Why the precautions when one did not believe in karma? Then again, she was a "just in case" person. Wesker made no promises for Kick, but if it came down to protecting herself and somehow killing her opponent, she would kill Kick.

--

This was it, the information she had been searching for. A few days ago, a man in his late twenties or early thirties had escaped arrest for residing in an abandoned building and theft. The sketch of the suspect matched the image of Billy that Rebecca had in her memory. Feeling hopeful, she placed her hand over the dog tag that she kept hidden beneath her shirt. She had played out their reunion in her head every day, hoping that someday it would happen.

AUA promised that they would aid her in her search for him, and they would not harm him. So far, the organization had never done anything to break that promise. So now, she had to put his fate in their hands and pray that they were sincere.

* * *

It was late, so Leon understood why they were rushed from the airport directly to AUA's official headquarters in Paris. There were so many places that went by the name of AUA HQ, but the different branches did not settle Leon. After watching a history channel all night about the Red Scare he began applying his fear of the Domino Theory to everything. After arriving, they were given a brief tour of their lodgings and hurried down to what he called "The Courtroom." Here, it appeared that only large meetings were conducted, and it resembled the famous room of the UN.

He did not know what to call it other than that, and he decided to stick with it as his team was put before the other tables that encircled the room. Their table was long and straight, with microphones before each chair. Glasses of water sat to the left of each microphone, both of these objects identifying an unseen boundary between the chair's occupants, to establish someone their own personal space. Rebecca had sat at the second chair, so to avoid Patricia, Leon sat at the first chair. He had become tired of her games and her pursuit.

Time and time again he had made it clear that his interests were in Kick, and that his heart belonged to her. It was time that she realize that. He expected for her to throw him a glance, but she did not. Something else was going on with her, but whatever it was, it was not pertaining to the matter at hand.

"We are here today to discuss the matter of Claire Elizabeth Redfield, and the Umbrella experiment 'Kick'." Leon hated when they referred to her like that, but he was too embarrassed to show it. He was so lost in his own world, that he failed to notice that half of the room was filled with men and women. Some of them were from assault squads, and some were merely speakers, but only the man speaking right now mattered. He stood at a podium on the left, speaking with a light French accent.

The faces before them were tired, and they sipped what he assumed to be coffee from porcelain mugs. The speaker seemed to be wide awake, and he did not seem to take pity on the dozens of sleepy officials before him.

"Tomorrow, a trade will be made: Christopher Tyler Redfield for Claire Elizabeth Redfield. Kick was mentioned nowhere in negotiations, but she has been a great help in taking down many Umbrella facilities. It is demanded that our assault team do everything in their power to return Claire to her team. If Kick is being held against her will, it is our command that you safely return her to our custody."

"I don't see why that's necessary boys!" All eyes were now on Patricia, as she made another attempt to get rid of Kick.

A woman on the front row leaned in to her microphone, her lips red and hair in a bun. Obviously she was a speaker. "Explain yourself Commander Layfield," she ordered in a British accent.

"It is known that Kick is a danger to us and everyone around the globe. She is infected with something, and one day things will get out of hand." The blonde stood up, causing Rebecca to roll her eyes. "It is no secret that our very own Leon Scott Kennedy could be infected!"

The male speaker turned to look at the subject of this conversation. "How so?"

Breathing deeply, Leon leaned towards his microphone before simply stating, "She is my girlfriend." This caused murmurs to erupt from the crowd, and for a moment, Leon expected someone to appear with a gavel yelling, "Order in the court!" It did not happen, the speaker only waited for everyone to quiet down before speaking again.

"Could you be infected?" he asked, his eyes on Leon's as though he expected him to lie.

"I feel fine-"

"Could you be infected?" he repeated.

"She didn't bite me or anything!"

The speaker was becoming annoyed. His face fell into a frown and his mouth held a pout. "Should I be more clear? Did you use protection?"

"No sir."

Everyone expected a speech to come next, but instead, the speaker only picked up a small gavel he had next to his microphone. "After Kick is back in AUA custody Rebecca Chambers and Kick are to run tests on Leon and Kick herself. If any additional help is needed it will be provided. It is imperative that we identify the origin of Kick's virus now that certain points have been made by Commander Layfield, and Kick shall _not be terminated_. This meeting is adjourned."

This time he remembered to remind Patricia that Kick is still under AUA employment. It seemed that nothing she did could persuade them to get rid of Kick, and that was not what she liked knowing.

--

Every time they refused to terminate Kick, Leon felt like he had won another war. Smiling, he walked to the bathroom, a towel over his shoulder and another set of clothes on his arm. He may not have had Kick there with him, but he had in some way kept Patricia from ruining her when she was not even there to defend herself. Without looking up from the knob he had just turned, Leon entered the bathroom. Slowly, he looked up to see Saul seated on the toilet with a man before him. It did not register to him at first what was happening until the other man fled.

"Oh shit!" Saul groaned, standing up and zipping up his pants. "Leon don't you knock?" He could not speak, could not believe his eyes. "Leon?"

"Saul… what the he- dude what the fuck?!"

"Shhh!" Eyes wide, Leon took a step away from his comrade. This was the man that willingly slept with Patricia, that had been married twice.

"Saul, you're-"

"I'm bisexual Leon." The confession caused Leon to fall farther into confusion. He had roomed with this man, spent nights on stakeouts with this guy, and now he had stumbled upon this seemingly perfect man's horrible secret. This did not disgust him as much as it should have though, instead, he wanted an explanation as to how this happened. "Yeah, um, my parents… They did some pretty fucked up shit to me."

He wanted no more than that, he did not need anymore surprises for the night; tomorrow was already going to be hell. "Look, I swear I won't tell a soul."

"Imma tell 'em all soon Leon… Just not right now."

"Yeah." He had always suspected that something more was going on with him, but he never thought that it was something of this magnitude. This was the ultimate taboo of the male world, but this was information was safe with him. They had other problems to deal with, and they did not even know if they would come out of the situation with Chris unharmed.

* * *

Dawn had come along with the promise that his sister would be back in AUA custody. Jill had been up for hours, combing her hair, brushing her teeth, and doing whatever else women did that took so long. Chris was so tired of this life, and he may have acted like he lived for the action and violence, but the truth was that he was tired of fighting the never-ending hordes off Umbrella's soldiers. Sometimes he felt like giving in, but he could not do that; he had to fight for Jill, for Claire. The bedroom door opened, and in walked Jill with a concerned look on her face.

He knew what she was about to say, so he beat her to it. "I'm not hungry." Sighing, she sat next to him on the bed before holding his face in her hands. He had not shaved in a while, but she never minded the stubble. If anything, she felt it made him seem more manly, more responsible looking.

"You shouldn't worry so much," she said, her breath cool against his lips.

"How can I not? Today could be my last day alive."

Quickly trying to turn the conversation around, Jill said in a louder voice, "Or today could be Wesker's last day alive!"

Smiling, appreciating her hopefulness and enthusiasm, he gave her a lopsided grin before pulling away from her. Giving her a quick kiss on her forehead, he breathed, "Just think."

"I don't wanna think about you dying!" He could see that the mere thought of him dying was causing bits of her to die. That was all he needed to know, this fact showed him that no matter what, Jill would do everything in her power to keep him safe.

"We have got to consider every possibility," he said sternly, earning him the heart-breaking sight of tears streaming from her eyes. Like a child, she buried her face in his chest, refusing to believe that Wesker could ever take him away from her. So many times they had been separated, but in the end they were always reunited. Why did today have to be so different? Because Chris felt this was the responsible thing to do.

For the longest he had been playing the mature role in the group, but he when it came down to life or death situations, he never said "What if?" Chris did not believe in what ifs, but right now he did because his sister's life was at stake, and so far they had no plans to get him back once he crossed over to Wesker's side. Wesker said there would not be another meeting after this one, and he may have been right. If anyone died today, it would be Chris, the weaker of the two. It seemed that everyone was accepting this, all except for Jill.

"Stop crying Jill. Please."

Her words were muffled as she buried her face farther into his shirt, somehow hoping to escape the words that she dreaded hearing for so long. "Then take it back!"

"Jill, I can't ju-" Suddenly, she attacked him, and her lips pressed to his in a desperate kiss. The conversation they just had was forgotten as Chris gave way to passion. He wanted her badly, and if there was some why to avoid death then he would take it. Jill had always been the one there for him, the one who had his back and vice versa.

To see the look of want on her face, he opened his eyes for a moment. Her face was still wet with tears, but he hoped to change that. He never intended to hurt her, but you always hurt the one you love.

"Hey Chris! Oops!" It seemed that no one knew how to knock anymore, but that voice was too familiar for Chris to be upset. He and Jill turned to the door, and there stood their old S.T.A.R.S. comrade.

"Barry!" they yelled in unison. Chris jumped up from the bed first and gave his friend a hug, squeezing him so hard that he had to tell him to stop. Today, Chris would not take anything for granted; he just hated that it took so long for him to realize that time was precious.

Wiping away the tears that still stained her cheeks, Jill walked to their old comrade, a smile on her face. "What are you doing here?"

Looking at the two with a knowing smirk, Barry put his hands on his hips. "Well, the family does better without me giving away their location, and I heard you guys needed some help." It got quiet as everyone looked to the floor. No one wanted to talk about this again, but they had to. "Have you guys seen 'em?

Jill spoke, but placed a hand on Chris' shoulder. "No… Wesker's hasn't let us even speak with them, and Kick's not a part of the deal. He wants her." Barry tried to give a smile of encouragement, but he could not. He knew what it was like to have family in the hands of Umbrella, understood what it felt like to be questioning whether or not your loved ones were still alive. It could make one betray their friends, but Barry swore to never walk down that path with the devil again.

"We're gonna find a way to keep this screwed up family together." Barry's words brought smiles to their faces, but they could not quell their fears of today. Only time would tell though, so they would just have to wait.

* * *

There were no decisions to make, everything was planned out, and Isabella knew where she stood. Wesker had been so good to her, and he was proving that right now. On her bed, they lied together, faced to face. Nothing in his eyes said that he lied to her, and nothing could make her think that he would do such a thing.

"You were always so beautiful, in more than one way." This brought a smile to her lips, and to his as well. He brought a hand to her hip and exhaled. He had so much faith in her, as did everyone else in Umbrella. They were idiots to trust her; her mind was boggled and sometimes even words did not make any sense.

Wesker felt like he knew her though, he felt like they were kindred spirits who could not be separated by death even. Still, they did not love each other in _that _way. She would never bear his child, she would never be his wife, and they would never say those three words with the meaning that lovers used them with.

"It's been so long." Isabella looked into his eyes, free of his shades, and looked away smiling.

"Since?" she asked, looking down at her stomach.

His hand appeared, and he forced her around to him. "Do you remember?" Quickly, she looked away, up at the ceiling as she felt him move so that he could place kisses on her bare stomach. She did not want to look at him; something was wrong. It was too late to take it back.

It happened a few hours ago, and then she wanted it. Now, all she could think about was Leon and how much he trusted her with his heart. What was wrong with her?! She liked it right? There was nothing better than being in his arms, nothing better than being the object of his affections right?

Betraying everything that she worked to become, it was all worth that one moment… to Isabella.

--Two Hours Later--

It was like looking the devil in his eyes, and it probably seemed the same to Wesker. Both men fought for what they though to be justice, and both would die for their beliefs and personal morals. But who was right?

"An army won't help you here Redfield!"

"Right back atcha you jackass!" There was no laughter, for there was no joking. Wesker had a line of armed men twenty feet behind him, -as though he needed it- just as Chris did, and he had the nerve to mock Chris. Dozens of men stood behind Rebecca, waiting for her signal to fire, every last one of them hoping to say that they took down the nefarious Albert Wesker. No one understood the power that he wielded, but ignorance in this case was not something to be proud of.

"Where's Kick?!" They stood thirty feet apart in a private airport, so Leon had to yell for anyone to hear him. Wesker could hear him though, even if he had been speaking at a normal volume. He knew that he was not supposed to be making demands, but he could not take it any longer. If he could just see her…

That disgusting grin was back on Wesker's face, and Chris wanted to carve him a new one. "_Isabella!_" So much emphasis was added to the name, and Leon could not understand why at first. Who was this Isabella person? For the first time since he was there, Wesker took his eyes of off his enemies and looked back.

In the distance, Leon watched the figure loom closer, and it was not long before he could distinguish that it was a woman. As she came up to Wesker, looking cold, they saw that the woman was Kick.

Patricia was looking strange, but no one objected as she chose to fall back with the soldiers. Leon's eyes never left Kick, and he never blinked. "Kick!" he yelled, expecting a response, but she only stared at him and allowed Wesker's arm to snake around her waist.

"I'm afraid that Isabella has remembered where she came from!" Leon stepped forward, but Jill placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to calm him down.

"Give us back Kick and Claire!" Chris shouted, earning a chuckle from his former captain. They watched as Wesker whispered something to Kick, and she disappeared behind a nearby warehouse, returning with Claire. At the sight of his sister, safe and unharmed, Chris wanted to cry. After the trade, never again would he hold her, joke with her, or even be able to have family spats.

She looked fine, like Wesker had been taking very good care of her. Before coming, he forced the redhead to allow Isabella to "fix her up." If anything, it looked like she was going to church in her pink skirt and white blouse. Chris had not seen his sister look so innocent since their parents funeral, and maybe that is why she dressed the way she did. Clothes like that reminded her of the sad occasion.

"Chris!" she cried, as Kick stepped away from her. All eyes were on the siblings, everyone ready for the switch.

His smirk had faded, and he became serious for this moment. This was it: the day when Chris would come right to him. "Let's get this over with."

Claire looked to him, silently pleading that he reconsider his decision. For too long had he witnessed her tears, and as he wiped a few away she thought she saw what appeared to be regret in his eyes. When one was so close to him, it was easy to glimpse those golden orbs.

"Just keep me," she whispered, fearing for her brother's life.

Exhaling, Wesker gave her a half smile. Before letting his hand fall to his side, he held her chin in his hand, running his thumb over her bottom lip. "Goodbye, dear heart." Hearing the finality in his voice, she turned to her comrades, trying hard not to throw up whatever she had been holding down since they arrived. The sight of her brother hugging everyone goodbye, it was heart breaking, but not as heartbreaking as it would be to let him walk to Wesker.

They stared at each other, all of the times sibling rivalry had occurred began flashing through their minds at one hundred miles per hour. Both inhaling, they took the first step simultaneously. So many things were going through Claire's head as she longed to the reach the middle point between both sides. She wished they had been born rich, she wished this was not happening, and she wished that her parents were there. She must have inhaled a thousand times too quickly, for when they reached the middle, Claire was hyperventilating.

"Hey stupid," Chris said, holding back the tears that had built up in his eyes. At those words, Claire exploded, falling into his arms. All she heard was him shushing her, telling her that everything would be all right, but that was not true right now. "It's ok. You gotta keep going." Everything that she wanted to say had left her as more painful sobs attacked her.

All the memories they had together, all the time spent, it all seemed like a waste. It felt like God had thrown her on that planet just for a soap opera, but that was not fair. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, and that this was her fault. She wanted to run back to Wesker and demand that he take her instead of her brother.

All that came out though was, "I love you, big brother."

"I love you too Claire Bear."

Not making eye contact, they let go of each other, walking away without another word. Claire wanted to collapse right now, to give up living as she heard the sound of her brother's boots growing fainter with each step, with each foot he left behind. Even though she doubted that she would, she made it to her friends, and none of them were happy. Not even to see her.

As she turned to watch Chris stare into his enemy's eyes, Leon pulled her into his embrace, resting his chin on her head.

"Come on man. Not in front of her." Chris did not want his fall to be witnessed by Claire, especially by Jill.

For a while, Wesker looked thoughtful. Was he actually debating whether or not to break more spirits? "Let's go." Chris threw a final glance at his team while Wesker backed away, not taking his eyes off of him. With the sight of his friends burned into his memory, the sight of Barry supporting Jill, he turned to see Wesker gesturing for him to follow.

As Wesker made it to his men, Chris sighed and took a step forward. A scream from Rebecca caught his attention, and then he heard gunfire. Everyone ducked the as soldiers from both sides began firing at each other, but Wesker only looked annoyed. Someone from his side had fired their weapon first. He took a step forward to make his way back to Chris, but something large flew through the air.

It was a van, and Chris watched in amazement as it knocked Wesker back into his men, none of them escaping harm. He could not move, he was too perplexed.

"CHRIS!" They were all yelling for him. Without thinking, he sprinted back to the other side, not hearing anything else.

"What the hell was that?!" Barry asked, looking around. For some reason, Leon was staring to the top of the warehouse, shocked by something. There, they saw Kick jump down. He did not care or worry about Wesker getting up, instead, he ran to her, taking her by the wrists.

"Kick!" he yelled, getting no response. She fainted in his arms, but he could not stay there for long; Wesker would be back up soon. Remembering how light she was, he picked her up bridal style. His eyes remained on Claire as he ran back to them, hoping that it would motivate him to move faster without looking back. He thought that when he reached them, he could stop, but his team only told him to keep running.

He could not look back, would not. All he heard was the sound of his team behind him, all of them waiting for Wesker to attack, just as they would have to do every day of their lives.

A/N: Told it was long. I think the longest chapter I ever wrote. Yeah it is. Once again, I apologize for the errors if there are any, I just get too lazy to fix them, especially since my wrist hurts and I FINALLY finished this chapter. So review please and I will update!


	14. Patricia's Silence

A/N: Sorry for the wait. My dad thinks he knows everything to know about computers and he basically did a clean sweep thing so all my fics were gone except the ones I had backed up on a cd. My pictures are gone…

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too.

There was always a way out, and he always expertly executed these alternative plans. All it took this time was a helicopter along with the nerve to leave behind his men to suffer persecution. Another violent tremor ran through his body, causing him to lurch forward in the chair. A pale hand ran through a head of blond hair as Wesker tried to think of a way to settle his stomach. Retching, he held his stomach, throwing a glance at the pilot's cabin at the front of the plane.

As he made his escape in the helicopter, he knew he had to find someone else to get him to Russia. As tears stung his eyes, he tore his shades from his face before tossing them to the other side of the cabin. Another tremor, more retching. As his eyes wandered to the window across the cabin, he noticed the darkness outside. Another tremor and his vision blurred momentarily.

How had she not figured it out? Claire was ignorant to the causes of her captor's illness, but not for long; surely Isabella would inform her of his past.

"Isabella." The name left his lips in a whisper. Missing the name just as it left his mouth, he repeated it. She had betrayed him by leaving with AUA. Next time, he would imprison her; keep her in a cryotank as before. That way, she could not escape him.

Going into the deal, he had Isabella and Claire, but because of her trickery he had lost everything: Chris, Claire, and the woman he shamefully left his guard down around. As the tremors subsided, Wesker pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately wishing to land. Women: he had been treating them all too kindly. In the past, Birkin's words made him seem petty, but did Annette bring about his demise? Did Isabella attack Roger because she was a savage?

His mind was so tired, he did not realize that he was arguing the point he was trying to make. Gianna was always a good girl, his Isabella was spoiled. Thinking back, he found that he had catered to her every need: material things, but what she yearned for were the sins of the flesh. Never could he pass up the chance to have his face buried in her hair while she trailed her nails down his back and called his name. Unlike most fires, they never flickered and died.

They taunted him, all of them- with their bodies and the so called "morals" they had picked up. Especially Isabella. He would show them all how much of a man he was; he would be damned if they thought they would disparage him.

* * *

The sound of the grandfather clock was magnified by the silence that loomed about the dining room. It was not a natural silence or an awkward silence, but the silence that came during recovery or shock. The truth was always viewed with fear, but reality was a callous hell that one could not escape. How many of them could say that they did not know where their next meal was coming from? How many of them could admit to filling themselves with poison so that they could endure their abhorrent job?

Kick could tell you how those things felt and then some, but no one was prepared for all of it in one sitting. When she walked into the dining room with natural blue hair, proclaiming that she was going to hunt down Billy Coen, her team thought she had lost her mind. She had remembered so much from her past, but at the same time she had forgotten the moments before her abduction. A squeeze from Leon's hand made her look into his eyes, not feeling that much better. They all knew now.

Judgments would soon come next; she knew this from experience, and just as she did in the past, she would disregard their comments. They never came, instead, Chris murmured an apology with the others following suit. But this did not bring her comfort, instead it brought her tears. A sigh left Leon as he helped her, ushering her from the dining room and up to their bedroom. As she sat on their bed, she heard the door creak close, and the locks turn.

The sound of his footsteps were faint as he neared her, and her skin felt numb when he brought his lips to her neck. This was his answer to her pain: sex? A shudder went down her spine as his hands wandered beneath her T-Shirt, causing her skin to tingle where they touched.

Her voice was barely audible as he laid her on her back while he removed his shirt. "No." As he unbuckled his belt, she felt a tremor come from within her chest. "Leon no!" He shushed her, leaning down to kiss her, but then he stopped and laid his head on her chest.

As he lay there immobile, she felt his length on her thigh, not flattering her whatsoever. "You do that to me and then you leave me hangin'?" Frustrated, he rolled off of her, trying not to make contact.

"I remembered something," she mumbled, sitting up. "It's always bad. I can't-"

"_Kick! _Snap out of it! Isabella's been dead for years!" He was holding her, shaking her with those strong hands. "I love _Kick. _I want to spend my _life_ with _her_."

Before, there was a smile of knowing, one of hatred. There was so little time to evaluate it, but in the corner of her eye, something was there. It was somewhere else too, mirrored in those cold, blue eyes. The man, the explosion. The other one, how could he really know that she would not give her life for…?

So quiet, so unresponsive to his words. Desperately, Leon patted her cheeks, trying to remove the blank expression from her face. "What's wrong?"

Her lips parted, but whatever she meant to say could not come out. It was stuck in her throat, but maybe if she saw the face…

"KICK!" The name echoed down the halls, but nothing could top her from getting to her. It hurt to breathe, and the feeling worsened as she tried to call out to her comrades. There were voices comeing from the gym, floating to her. Halting, she tried to catch her breath, to calm herself before she made a mistake.

Down the hall, Leon could be heard running after her at full speed. One foot in the doorway, she just needed to take the next step. A deep breath as she propelled herself forward and swung into the room. Silence, all except for the sound of Leon's footsteps and voice. Expectant stares from them all, all except Patricia, whose stare was just vacant.

The weights she held fell to the ground, but no one took their eyes off of Kick. The pain in her chest was subsiding, and her voice demonstrated its return as she let out a whimper.

With an exhale, she shook with anxiety. "You're the one who told Wesker where to find us!" With the revelation, there came gasps, almost as loud as the accusation itself. But she would not move. With so many eyes focused on her, why would she want to vegetate?

Standing up from his bench, Chris walked to their leader looking serious; the situation called for such an attitude. "Is this true Patricia?" No answer left her thin lips, and her vacant stare seemed to intensify as her eyes filled to the brim with tears that would not fall. Frustrated with her silence, Chris shook her, forcing her to face him. "Patricia?!"

"She can't hear you…" muttered Jill, wanting to smile, but she knew that this was not the time. Sure she wanted revenge on her, but not if it meant that she could not face the punishment because she retreated in fear into the depths of her mind. "She's catatonic. After an accusation like that, and if it were true, I'd be the same way."

Leon heard it. In shock, he stood by Kick meeting Claire's eyes that held the same emotion. Not knowing what else to do, the redhead stood, but Jill stopped her from nearing her brother by catching her arm with a cold hand.

"Leon, call London. They need to know about this," Jill whispered, feeling Claire begin to shake. They had been betrayed.

* * *

There were many headquarters, but the mother of them all was in London. After their flight they were allowed to sleep, but in separate rooms so that no one could conspire. No, there was no need to; Patricia had dug her own grave. They had been questioned one by one, and then as a group. It had become evident that they did not trust them; they were accusing one of their officials of being a traitor.

With rectangular glasses and a strong nose, the president of AUA looked over the stack of papers before him. Once again they were being evaluated, this time in a circular room, seated around a circular table. The officials all sat on one side, while Chris and his group sat on the other. The president mumbled a few things to himself before setting the papers down before him. Two of the elder men whispered to one another, throwing the team a few suspicious glances.

Giving a "hmm," the president finally gave the team his attention. "You say she betrayed you because she was jealous?" There was a hint of skepticism in his voice as he questioned them, but perhaps he was just being impartial as judges were expected to be.

"Sir," said Jill, looking him straight in his blue eyes, "Patricia has made it a habit to bed as many of the men living with us as possible. She almost succeeded, but Leon was with-"

"This just seems so elementary," he interrupted, now supporting his head with his hand. He looked bored, but one could tell that he was just trying to coerce them into believing that he was not as nice as he seemed. This was not working; these were people who came from law enforcement he was dealing with.

Sighing, Jill said, "Sir, Patricia was very elementary."

"So why did you not complain?"

"We did, but you guys insisted that it was nothing."

The president smirked at them and he noticed Kick biting her thumbnail irately. That is all that she could do though was sit there and display her frustration.

"Patricia has been taken into custody, and since she cannot speak we have decided to send her to an asylum," the gray haired man said, looking more bored than he had looked before. "She will remain there until she decides to speak. You will be assigned a new leader, Official Tyler Mills, 27. He has worked with the best. We shall see how well you get along with _this_ one."

* * *

As Kick groaned at the sight of the needle, Rebecca grinned before jabbing it into the vein in her arm. "Still hate needles huh?" the brunette asked, filling the once empty syringe with almost black blood.

"Don't let anybody get a hold of that or we're screwed," Kick warned, as she watched Rebecca inject a small sample into a petri dish under a microscope.

"So, what are we looking for here?" asked Claire, as she watched Leon groan in pain when Jill stuck a needle into his arm.

Adjusting the focus on her microscope, Rebecca squinted a bit. "We're looking to see if Leon is infected, and if he is we need to find out if he's going to have any mutations."

Smirking, Leon looked at Kick with a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I can't believe you might have given me a disease!"

Before they could laugh at him, Chris interrupted the moment with facts. "It's a virus and I don't think it's funny."

"Dude, relax. I'm alive." Leon's attitude about the situation appeared to have appalled Chris. He gave a sigh that Claire knew all too well whenever a problem arose.

"Can you just use the head with a brain for once?!" Silence befell them, but this did not interrupt Rebecca's investigation of Kick's blood sample. The noise actually seemed to make her more aware of the things going on in the petri dish, but Chris failed to notice her newfound interest. "You could be about to die for all we know."

A gasp left the woman at the microscope, but she did not give an explanation.

An eyebrow cocked, Kick looked to her expectantly. "What did you find?" she asked, louder than necessary.

Startled, Rebecca jumped and turned to stare at her comrades before realizing that they wanted to know what she found. "Oh! Kick, you're… I don't even know what to say. One minute everything's dead and then it's full of life. It's like-"

"I'm half dead?"

"You knew that right?" Kick only nodded, rolling her chair over to Leon's and then she pushed him away. Claire giggled as he rolled into a nearby desk while Chris yawned and took a chair next to his baby sister. "I don't know what to call you other than a medical wonder."

"I think so too," she said, grinning at her title. "So is Leon gonna die?" He had made his way back over to her and placed a hand on her thigh.

Rebecca began scrutinizing Leon's blood sample. "We may need to get some extensive work done on this. I'm not seeing anything suspicious. I'll send it to a friend of mine." More work was to be done; all the while Leon's fate was unknown. It did not seem to bother him though; he seemed perfectly fine as he began bothering Kick.

Outside the door, they could hear Saul and Barry talking excitedly, but there was an unfamiliar voice nearing them as well. A loud laugh left Barry and the door to the small lab opened, presenting the two men with an unfamiliar blond between them.

With a confused look, Chris looked to his old friend. "Barry?"

Patting the newcomer on the back, the older man introduced him to the group. "This is our new leader, Tyler Mills." Everyone greeted him, but Leon mumbled something about "another blond."

Giving them a brilliant smile, the blond announced, "My friends call me Rush."

Smirking, Leon said, "Hey Tyler," earning him a slap on the arm from Kick. Luckily, he did not get that Leon intended to be mean-spirited, and for this his friends were grateful. Claire stared at their new leader, noticing that he was quite good-looking, but she also found that in a way he resembled Wesker. However, in an old S.T.A.R.S. photo where Wesker was caught without his shades, he had blue eyes. Rush had green eyes, and looked more boyish despite the fact that he was almost thirty.

Rush did not slick his hair back and it was about the same length as Leon's hair, but it was not parted as far to the side. He was also an inch or two shorter than Wesker with a lean body that made him look even more like a teenager. No wonder Leon was upset; he was no longer the pretty boy of the house. Patricia's replacement did not seem to notice Leon's attitude towards him, but it was bound to happen that one day they would clash. Claire anticipated it.

A/N: Everybody review!


	15. About Rush

A/N: I read Wesker's Report 3 and I guess it's the real thing right? Anyway, Wesker still hasn't realized that Ada didn't give him the real sample? He is getting old and dumb if he thinks she's really switching over from a company she was forever loyal to, to a drugstore that isn't even set up yet. Four years and he hasn't said, "OMG she played me." God, Chris was right, he's gone senile. I'm starting to think Capcom IS getting ready to kill him off.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too.

No matter what happened, Claire could not become a morning person. Kick's sleep night had not come yet, so she had no problem leaving Leon in bed while she and Rush worked out. It was drama begging to be unfolded, and Claire knew that even if she tried to she could not avoid being pulled into it. Yawning, she pulled her ponytail holder from her hair and let the red tresses fall past her shoulders. She had been letting it get long lately, and she could not decide whether to cut it.

Taking in the sight of the messy kitchen, Claire only shrugged and gave another yawn before she began pouring a bowl of cereal. Lately she had been working out so much that her metabolism was sharply increasing. After adding milk, she went to the dining room and began eating, the silence allowing her to hear the grains in her bowl popping. Never before had it been this quiet, except when she returned from being in Wesker's custody. It was like the calm before the storm, and she felt that today would be tense.

Just as she finished washing her bowl, she heard feet shuffling and a moan-like yawn. Chris and the others normally slept in, so this had to be Leon. Before she could turn around, he embraced her, holding her back to him tightly.

"What's up stupid?" he asked, letting her go. His eyes were red, proving that he obtained little or no sleep last night. Having a girlfriend who barely slept was not as fun as it sounded. "Did you make breakfast?"

Giving a scoff, she looked into his eyes, the answer lying in her own. "You know Barry and Saul cook, but they never get up before 11:30 unless there's briefing or something." When Claire thought of the days she had to wake her older brother up, she grinned; only buckets of ice water would do the trick.

Ruffling his brown hair he asked, "Where's Kick?"

Claire answered without thinking, and wished she could take the words back. "She's in the gym with Rush." Before she could lift a finger to stop him, he was gone, sprinting to the gym with Claire on his heels. Why was he getting so worked up about something so trivial? "Leon," she called, but he had already made it to the gym.

Claire stood next to him in the doorway, and watched a confused Kick and Rush look towards them, towels in hand. Before anyone could open their mouths to say anything, Leon pulled Kick off without explanation. Right now, Claire really wished he would supply them with one; his behavior was ludicrous. Ignoring Leon's lack of manners, Rush shrugged and gave Claire an inviting smile. What wrong had their new captain done already?

--Five Hours Later--

Greece was not so bad, and the house they were given this time around seemed to be in better shape. This one was white, and for the first time since she was there, she appreciated its grand architecture. Englishmen had built it, but the pillars in front of it gave it a more Greek look. The rooms were bigger and each one had a window, whereas their last place only had windows in every other room. The gym was actually large enough for them to all be in there at once, and there were many more restrooms much to her elation.

Here, they were surrounded by trees rather than the rolling hills that went on where they lodged in Italy. They had even been supplied with a pretty large garden, but they allowed the inhabitants of the soil to grow wild. Claire did not mind the half-breeds that had come about as a result of negligence. Each flower held its own beauty, even though they would be declared weeds by most. Her eyes wandered to the sky, a storm was brewing, at least that is what the weather channel had informed them.

No one spoke Greek in the house, so everyone only knew what their eyes told them on the TV. Maybe after they got rid of Umbrella, they could all just stay here together.

"Oh, am I interrupting you?" Claire looked up to see Rush standing to her left, looking as though something was on his mind.

Making room for him on the cement bench she said, "No, have a seat." If it were Leon or Chris, they would plopped down next to her, but Rush seemed aware that most women hated that, so he took his seat lightly. "I was just taking all of this in. I really didn't have a chance to…" Every time she thought of a moment when Wesker was involved his face would flash in and out before her eyes. Ever since the Rockfort incident, she could never seem to go a day without somehow being reminded of his smirk.

She could not even think of Steve without seeing him as well.

_Maybe I'll bring Steve back alive so he can see your sister._Rush saw the change in her demeanor; he asked, "What's wrong?" Tears had threatened to fall from her eyes, but they did not, instead they remained there to cloud her vision.

She fiddled with a string on the sleeve of her jacket before meeting Rush's green eyes. They were deep and warm, but she did not know if she could confide in him. "I'd rather not talk about it if that's ok with you." She received a nod of understanding, but he did not look away. "I want to apologize for Leon's behavior back there. He and Kick have been through a lot and when they finally got together she was… taken from him."

"By Wesker?" he asked in a silky voice, but it sounded like it was more of a statement.

"Yeah. He's taken a lot from us." She could hear his laughter in her ears, even though she knew he was probably thousands of miles away from her.

"I hear he's a rather nasty fellow." Even though he spoke of Claire's tormentor this way, there was a shine in his eyes. That could not be… No, she must have been imagining it.

Taking a deep breath she forced his face from her memory, daring to speak of him. "He told me that when he first met me he really was going to kill me." There it was. While he held her captive, he admitting many things, like how he planned on crushing her chest in. "Now I think he should have-"

"Don't you ever say that!" Rush's face was red as he refused to agree with her new train of thought. He would not watch someone fall into despair under his command, especially Claire, a young woman who had spent so much of her time fighting for what was right. He had calmed down now, even though she still looked shocked, her eyes wide. "I don't ever want you to say that again."

Claire felt ashamed when Rush broke eye contact with her, instead he began studying the flowers that were five feet in front of him. They seemed to calm him, and Claire hated that she even said anything like that. If anything, that would have hurt Chris more than helped him.

"He really believes in what he does," she said, following his stare to the flowers.

"I guess in a weird way he thinks what he's doing is right. Being humans who are we to judge what's good and bad?"

"Especially when… he took such good care of me…" Had she really said that out loud? Rush didn't seem to hear her though as he got to his feet and stretched out a hand towards her.

"Let's get inside."

Smiling, Claire placed her hand into his, and decided that she did trust him.

* * *

The steady beep, the brightly colored walls, it would have woken him up if he was lying there in that too-soft hospital bed. Gladly, that was not the case, and he was one of the people responsible for the poor man's fate. He could have stopped Isabella, saved his so called "friend," but why didn't he? He hurt Isabella, and Roger had to pay for his past crimes, that's why. That did not stop Wesker from coming to Russia though; it was almost time.

His hazel eyes were wide open, only blinking every now and then. According to the doctors he could hear, but he could not speak or return to his normal conscious state. At least not yet.

Sighing, Wesker removed his shades at set them on the desk behind him. "Isabella had no idea that you were merely recovering. Remember that when the time comes." Giving another sigh he said, "Isabella." At the name, Roger blinked. Unsure if it was just a coincidence he leaned forward.

Smirking, he breathed, "Isabella." Once again, Roger blinked, and Wesker was sure. "Oh yes, your ex-fiancée. She escaped my custody and returned to AUA. They rescued her from her prison, where she was sent because of… well it's the last thing you remember. She's probably in bed with that Leon Scott Kennedy.

"Remember him? The one from Raccoon City. I'm sure I told you all about him. They're serious. But I hear that soon you'll be back, and you'll get our Isabella back for us won't you?" A deep chuckle left him as he sat back in the chair and watched Roger's eyes. He could see it: the struggle to survive.

* * *

Claire's eyes followed Rush as he walked to the front of the den, and everyone watched him closely. Leon had a protective arm around Kick and she seemed to be smothered by him; he had been worrying about nothing. The couch was in the shape of a half circle, so everyone could see the captain without a problem, but Claire sat at the end next to Kick so she could avoid his gaze. Claire had not gone out of her way to stay out of a guy's view in so long.

He gave them one of his handsome smiles before speaking. "There's a facility in Russia that's full of B.O.W.S. and Russia refuses to agree to nuclear tactics and for some reason they want that building. More importantly, there are files there that may be important to Wesker. AUA wants them."

Nodding his head, Saul smirked. "All right let's kick some B.O.W. ass! Finally some action!" In the corner of her eye, Claire saw Leon throw Saul a look, but she could not understand what it meant. Maybe she was once again imagining things.

"Since there are new members we need new teams." At Rush's latest announcement, Leon grabbed Kick's hand quickly, causing her to look to Claire who could tell that she wanted to cry out, "What the hell?"

Claire sat forward, wondering who he would choose to be in his group, and she watched him closely as he revealed this. "Jill, Chris, and Barry."

On the other side of the couch, Jill exclaimed, "S.T.A.R.S. baby!" Chris was grinning war to ear while Barry seemed very happy that he could continue to work the way he used to.

"Rebecca, Leon, and Saul." Leon tensed at this, and laid his head back against the couch in fury, cursing under his breath. "Claire, Kick, and myself." Claire felt an unintended smile spread across her lips, and then she met her captain's eyes. He licked his lips and turned back to the group, announcing that they were to leave next week.

Still, she could not miss it, the look that Leon gave him was deadly, but Rush only returned a kind smile. Behind her she heard Leon muttering something to a protesting Kick, but she still could not understand what Leon disliked about him. The den was emptying, and Claire felt her cheeks become hot when Rush called her name. What was happening to her?

A/N: Do not worry people! This is an eventual Claire/Wesker! Tinkies inquired about this earlier, but do not worry about Claire and Wesker. This is very different from TGOE in the romance department. I plan on making this into a veeeeeeeery long fic. I don't want to spoil it. I really like this story and I do not want to end it soon. Sorry for how short this chapter is, I want to make the next chapter longer and try to base it on Claire's relationship with Kick. We're getting to Claire evaluating her feelings towards Wesker, I promise it's coming real soon so do not panic. I said this was a Claire/Wesker so it's gonna be a Claire/Wesker. Ok? Take a deep breath and review.


	16. The Screams

A/N: The beginning of the chapter is about Leon and Kick so if someone feels uncomfortable then just don't read that. It's not a lemon, it's just…somewhat citrus-y? I guess that's what to call it, but it's not worth an M rating so don't freak. And sorry for the wait, but lately I've been very happy; I got a new boyfriend! J So I'm actually in the mood to write romantic stuff! With the good news comes bad news though… my ex's brother was shot in the leg and he's pretty much well-known by the teens of my school and the "urban youth." Sucks… There's gonna be some more shooting now… Well, I live in the good neighborhood by the lake now so it ain't my problem. Here's what you've been waiting for!

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too.

The rain beat onto the window mercilessly, rapidly patting it like someone at the door, desperately wanting to get in. Kick's head rested on her lover's bare chest, rising and falling with every deep breath he took in his slumber. A flash of white lightening ripped through the sky, followed by a deafening boom of thunder. Then a scream caught her ear, but she did not sit up alert. No, she did not want to hear those screams tonight.

Her red eyes found Leon's face, and normally the sight of his mouth slightly open would be funny to her. Another terrifying scream sounded in the night, barely audible over the noise. Her lips met his chest, and when her right hand began trailing down his rock hard abs, his eyes opened.

Yawning, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Over the storm, he could not hear it, but she could, and it was driving her mad. "It's not the time of the week for me to sleep," she lied.

"'Storm bothering you?" She answered by nodding, hugging him tighter as she heard another scream. Sitting up, she watched his face closely, hoping that he would not reject her due to his exhaustion. Surprisingly, he sat up too, looking wide awake now as he brought his lips to hers. This kiss was different than the others, this one was more caring and tender.

His hand wandered to her hip as the kiss intensified and their tongues massaged. Without warning, he broke the kiss and stared into her red eyes, looking more in love than he had any other time.

_Agent Isabella Abolhassan-Ramirez_.

That's not my name, she thought to herself as she began to get lost in her love's gray eyes. It was her name, but Leon simply knew her as Kick, and as the woman that he had fallen for so quickly. She brought her fingers up to trace his lips, but he caught her hand and began kissing it softly before taking it into his own. As they once again shared a kiss she felt weak, like she did the first time they made love. Their breathing became ragged, but she would not stop for unneeded breaths of air.

No, the dead did not breathe, it was because she was crying. He did not know, but she slept with Wesker before the trade. How could she explain to him that his enemy was the first man that she loved, and nothing he did would change the fact that she would do it again in a heartbeat if he asked? As she felt a hand massage her breast she moaned into the kiss, feeling her body grow warmer with heat and passion. Breaking the kiss, she laid down pulling him on top of her.

Once again she began attacking his lips, bucking her hips as he rubbed himself against her. "Leon," she moaned his name between kisses.

"I love you," he breathed, his breath tickling her lips. "I love you so much." Her reply was another kiss, but he stopped and stared into her crimson eyes. "Do you love me Kick?"

He knew it was true, he did not have to doubt her, but she knew that he needed to hear her say the words. "I love you."

"How much?"

"Too much."

"Enough to want to marry me? Spend the rest of our lives together?" That was a long time, and he had no idea. Wesker was about forty, and he still looked the same. No one bothered telling her how long she would live, and now that Leon was probably infected they would be spending a lot more time together. This is what she wanted though, to be with him forever, however long that was.

He really was beautiful, and she felt as though she hit the jackpot. Biting her bottom lip, she let her eyes fall and thought about her decision. "Yes, Leon. I want to be with you forever." Smiling, he brought his lips to hers again, not saying another word. Eventually she would have to tell him about Wesker, but she was unsure about his reaction.

Would he even love her?

-One Hour Later-

A nap was all she could manage to achieve, the screams once again disturbed her. Her red eyes were met with another flash of white lightening as it met the ground somewhere miles away. Leon slept soundly beside her, not responding at all when she whispered his name. Watching his face, she stood up from the bed without making a sound, the floor did not even creak under her light body. A black t-shirt that Leon had been wearing earlier was thrown on his dresser, and she crept over to it, throwing the too-large shirt on to cover her naked body.

Before she slowly turned the doorknob, she threw her sleeping lover an apologetic glance. Luckily, a roar of thunder drowned out the creak of the door, lasting until she closed it behind her. Another terrible and anguish filled scream broke through the night, making Kick stop in the middle of the long hallway. A sob made her shake and throw her body into the wall, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. A voice told her to let it be, to endure the sounds; they would stop one day.

However, that day would be when the screamer died or when her Wesker died. Wesker was a walking nightmare, and now she could agree that he ruined lives with the intention of causing irreparable damage. Then again, he did not force himself upon her, no, it was her decision to give herself to him that day. The rain began hitting the roof harder than before, and she heard one more scream that signaled the end of one of the nightmares the dreamer was having.

_No more nightmares_.

Face completely drained of its color, Kick looked to the end of the hallway before walking on, holding onto the wall the whole way. The door was right in front of her, looming before her tired eyes, daring her to enter the room behind it. She had been bearing Wesker's cross for far too long, and now she had to free herself of his guilt. So far, they were seeing him at his sanest, but he was becoming impatient. She witnessed him torture people, beat females meant to be test subjects, and subject men to their worst nightmares.

Those days, she would hide behind doors, crying and pleading that he end his captives' miserable lives. He would pull her from behind whatever was concealing her and make her watch them scream and bleed. Maybe that is why she felt so bad now, why she could not stand the sound of a woman's scream. Somewhere along the line he had driven her crazy, but she could not leave him; he had been so good to her. When she was detoxing, he beat her many times, sometimes until she was close to death.

Gianna would relapse, and as a sister who did not want to see her twin go down alone, Isabella would lie and say she had relapsed too. For some reason he was harder on her, only locking Gianna away in a white room in a straight jacket with a bit in her mouth. For Isabella, beatings were plentiful, and one time he had even fractured her jaw bone by pushing her into a cement wall. These memories were coming back and hurt her heart when she thought of how much she loved him.

He had been nice to Claire so far, but if he got her back then Kick feared that he would revert to his abusive ways, punishing her for his failures. The door opened so easily, without the slightest groan from the hinges. In the pitch black room she could see perfectly fine, and the sight of Claire sweating and twisting beneath the sheets of her bed made her jaw drop. Quietly, she walked to the bed, sitting next to the tormented red head. Uncertainly, she lifted a hand to stroke her hair, but this only calmed Claire slightly; she was still having the nightmares.

"Steve…" Over and over, she groaned the name, and Kick remembered where she had heard it. The boy that had died trying to save her, the boy that Wesker claimed he wanted to bring back. Obviously, that caused her to worry, but Kick knew Wesker well enough to honestly say that Claire had nothing to worry about. If this Steve could fight off the effects of the T- Alexia virus long enough to save Claire's life, then Wesker would not use him for any of his precious plans.

No, he knew that was too great a risk, and how would he benefit from this? The boy would not kill Claire, and he would then be mocked for his latest "love connection."

"Steve, I'm sorry!" It was almost as though she was awake, she screamed as though she was right there and his last moments were playing out before her once again. Gently, Kick leaned down to her friend and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "I love you."

Tears welling up in her eyes, Kick whispered, "I love you too." No more screams, no more kicking. Claire just lay there peacefully, as though nothing happened, as though she had woken up and forgotten the nightmare already. Somehow, Kick felt drained and sleep pulled at her eyelids. Surely her friend would not mind sharing her bed for the night, but Kick's true thoughts were on Wesker.

She knew he was watching even now as she carefully climbed into bed with her friend. What she feared the most though was that dark hallway; he could even be there, and when he chose to show his face again she worried that Isabella just might lose control.

-Morning-

Despite the fuss that had been made by Leon this morning and the kicking down of many doors, the two young women did not stir. For once Kick and Claire had rested without disturbance, without running from Wesker in their dreams all night. The first pair of eyes to open belonged to Claire, and it was understandable that she was shocked to see that she and her friend had been lying face to face all night without her knowing. Then again, Kick's presence was difficult to sense, and since she barley even breathed Claire could not rely on the slightest movement of the bed to alert her to the BOW's company. What actually beat out her curiosity of her friend's presence was the fact that she had slept on a night that was -according to her schedule- a restless night for her.

Claire noticed a scar on Kick's neck, it was a straight line that had become so faint that it was almost invisible. Curious of its origin, Claire reached up to touch it, but a hand shot up to grab hers.

"Knife fight with Wesker during combative training. September of '97." Kick's eyes were not as red as the normally would be, not burning. Embarrassed, Claire pulled her hand away and yawned into it. "Why were you screaming last night?"

Claire's eyes fell away from Kick's, the sudden question causing her to blush. "Oh, um… It's nothing."

Before the redhead could change the subject, Kick said quickly, "You scream every night." Still, blue eyes hid from the red gaze trying to capture them, and Claire needlessly scratched her head. "It scares me." At this, Claire looked up, finding that her friend's stare was not as harsh as she thought it would be.

For the first time, Claire analyzed the things that made Kick beautiful: her flowing hair, the goodness about her that could not be seen but felt, and the attractive features one inherited. Kick had all the right ones, like she was perfectly designed. She was not tall at all, and nowhere near the average height of a woman as was Rebecca. And even though she was slightly shorter than the brunette, Kick weighed at least four more pounds than her, probably because off the curves she had. Most prostitutes had no such shape because of their profession, but from '93 to '96 all Isabella and Gianna had were their looks that even fast living could not take away.

Some were lucky like that, but the look in the younger woman's eyes seemed to scream that she would have rather been ugly and unhappy than a beautiful whore. And yet sometimes one could tell that she really had no problem with selling her body, as long as her soul was not a part of the deal.

Seeming to know what Claire was thinking, Kick said, "Sure I have the face and the hair and the boobs and the body, but that was all a part of the purchases that those old bastards made on street corners and in motel rooms. 'Never sold myself for under 100 bucks. When the celebrity parties were goin' on I could even sell myself for up to 500. But all that money went to me and Gianna's coke problem. I was trying to quit." Suddenly, she sat up, resting her back against the headboard. "Never had a disease in my life, and the only virus was the one Wesker put in me; my looks and Gianna were all I had so I had to stay healthy. 'Never cared for any of the men I was fucking either. Just Wesker and now Leon

"Wesker broke more bones in my body than I can count, but he broke more hearts when he only took me to bed." Finally, those red eyes left Claire's red face, but the silence between them told Claire that it was her turn to talk.

Eyes on the red sheets of her bed, Claire sniffled as she tried to hold back tears that always came with the recalling of the events that scarred her permanently. "I remember when a scientist got locked in a lab. He was banging on the glass, begging for me to help him, but I couldn't even get the fucking door open." While she dealt with a feeling of uselessness, beside her Kick tensed, and then Claire realized that she had probably seen something like this before, having lived with Wesker. "I saw his head get cracked open before me. That would have been me too if Steve hadn't rescued me from one of those things… they were always grabbing at the heads-"

"An OR1," Kick interrupted, "affectionately called Bandersnatches. Not ideal creatures for combat, but I see the dumbest Ashford of them all was loony enough to put them into production even after Wesker, Birkin, _and _Lord Spencer announced them as illegal in Umbrella. Very noticeable, very dangerous, and at the same time the fact that they were hard to kill was presented over and over as a justification to keep them for experimentation so they could make it better. A one-armed freak of nature was not on the to-do list. Sorry, continue."

Claire gave a nod of understanding, knowing that Kick's recovered knowledge could not be kept inside her head; sometimes she had to shout things out to stop thinking about them. "Wesker tried to kill me twice: once on Rockfort and another time in Antarctica, or so he claims. I watched Steve die in front of me after he fought the T- Alexia Virus." She said no more, but Kick knew that she wanted to say something about Wesker, about how he said he wanted to bring Steve back.

Sighing, Kick looked back at Claire who finally decided to meet her gaze. "Claire…" Her voice came out in a whisper, foreshadowing what she would say next. "Steve's not coming back. So you can stop having those nightmares now." Sitting up, Claire sniffled, tears running from her eyes, down her cheeks. Then she threw herself onto her friend, feeling her quickly return the embrace.

Not needing to breathe as much as a human, Kick did not object to Claire's tight embrace. It was not long before the blue-eyed woman began shaking with sobs as she mourned Steve with the knowledge that he was not coming back this time.

Barely able to speak, she cried out, "I loved him, I did!"

"He knows," Kick whispered back repeatedly, trying to calm her friend down, and each time those words met Claire's ears her sobs seemed to subside. Soon, Claire's grip weakened, and she laid against Kick's chest with red eyes. "All of the survivors scream Claire. You, Rebecca, Chris, Jill, Barry, and even Leon. But one day the screams are gonna stop. For me though…" A dramatic pause filled the air as she took a deep breath, and a tear fell into Claire's hair. "For me they're just beginning."

And this was a fact; she had many a night to lay awake and think about it, but less to be able dream about it. This was only good for people with her profession, but when this was over it would be one more characteristic that would hurt her more than help her.

A/N: REVIEW EVERYBODY! And in a few chapters I decided to allow Claire and Kick to have a _very_ adult conversation about Wesker. I feel that Kick has been suppressing Isabella when it comes to personal things. She cannot leave behind who she was because of who she is now. That would be very fake of her. J So she's gonna share some things that Claire probably is itching to know, but is too ashamed to ask about. Ciao!


	17. Underneath the Shades

A/N: In this chapter there's gonna be some Claire/Wesker… kinda... Sorta… Also, I don't think there can be an optimistic side of me at all shown in this chapter; I've always been a pessimist. My perfect younger boyfriend that had me all happy? Yeah, his parents didn't like the fact that I'm a senior so guess what, when I was waiting for the rug to be pulled from beneath my feet I was right to be suspicious. And that crazy ex? His brother got shot and died after deciding to change his life, so now I haven't been able to eat meals since the day ALL of this happened: July19th. Yes, it happened in one day. A day of hugs and kisses and "I love yous" turned into a night of asking God what the hell did I do wrong this time? And in the end that crazy ex is the one there for me, even when his brother is gone, and then he reminds me why I won't take him back… and then his I lost my best friend after he finally told me he loved me when he had been hiding it for almost a year, but just an hour before that I lost the guy who had considered me his sister-in-law, and to make shit worse I was not on good terms with him, but he didn't even know. And he left behind siblings, a girlfriend, many mourning friends, and a baby girl all because he was friends with the wrong person… This summer sucked. And last month I started dating my friend of almost 2 years, and I've been stressing because it's over and it ended in the worst way. He has problems and I should have considered that. How can you decide that you shouldn't be in a relationship? How can you leave someone when you were their first, and knowing that the last relationships went up in flames? How the hell can someone put you through that, to disappear for days and then come back with such a revelation, after telling you to stop worrying because he was different? Then my uncle was missing for about three days and he's diabetic, turns out some hick cops arrested him thinking he was drunk. It's too much. I don't even want to be here anymore. I got a cruise to take in November so if you never hear from me after November, know that I'm in Puerto Rico, never planning on coming back.

Update! I been working on this chapter forever people! Sorry bout that rant I just gotta let y'all know what's been going on with me lately. I got a new boyfriend and now I'm smiling and everything, I'm even going to my friend's Costume/Birthday party on the 18th. I'm a mile high captain ha ha. God I need to update, I can't punish y'all for my screwed up life. So I hope this chapter's good!

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too.

Her face showed submission, such an unfamiliar thing with the red haired hellcat. Normally she showed resistance every step of the way, hoping to avoid a real conversation that would sway her previous thoughts of him. Neither of them took their eyes off of each other, neither of them moved an inch. She just sat there on his bed, staring him down while he gazed at her from the threshold as an unnerving silence passed between them. Who would look away first, and who would show another emotion other than the ones present on their faces?

It was Wesker who changed first as a smirk crept across his face, but she remained still even as he crossed the room to take a seat next to her. Back in his custody, and back in his bed. He pushed away the recurring thoughts that tried to fill his head, the main one being, "How?"

When she sat back, the tense look leaving her, she sighed and licked her lips. "You have a Redfield, can't you just be satisfied with that?" He chuckled at her question, and placed a gloved hand on her knee, giving a squeeze.

Giving a shrug, he said, "Forgive me dear heart for the disturbance I have caused in your life, but I still need Isabella."

He felt her try to move away from him, but gave her knee another squeeze, signaling that he wanted her to stay right where she was. She gave a scoff before letting a smirk take over her face. "I don't want Kick here."

"Why not? She is your friend, is she not?"

Eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief, she moved towards him, looking him in the eye. "I never did like having her as competition," she admitted, looking like a child who had said something naughty when her cheeks become rosy as she blushed.

"So," he began, allowing his hand to wander farther up her thigh, "You have decided to join me?"

"I can't lie to myself anymore," she said. "After the situation with Patricia I just don't see how anything we do is worth it anymore. I'm ready to be yours." Slowly, she climbed onto him, seeing the anxious look his eyes held behind the shades. God, this was it, the moment he had been waiting for.

It disappeared, the illusion was gone, and he realized this when he sat up. Sweat had formed in beads on his forehead and he shivered even though it was not cold. "Claire."

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A question had locked itself into her brain, causing it to pound with the need to know. The desire of knowledge had caused her to become quiet while those around her continued laughing and living their lives as though nothing else was important to them. How great for them, how wonderful they had it. The bug of curiosity had struck, and she could not resist asking, but she had to or else she would destroy the happiness she so rarely saw anymore. She did not know where he was, or if he would really ever come again, and yet she worried about him.

Wesker could be considered a man of his word right now since his loyalty lied to himself; he would not say one thing and do another. This is why she kept asking, "Where could he be?" Would he show up at her door like he promised to? Would he give a call and say that he missed her company, and the leverage that she gave him? Remembering his sickness, another thought came to mind: Could he be dead?

For some reason this thought caused her stomach to churn, showing its protest to her even thinking something like that. But since he did not care for her, why should she worry for him? Kick told her not to worry, that it would all be ok, that it was all fine, but her gut was telling her otherwise. Something was terribly wrong right now, she just did not know what. She only knew that only death could keep him from fulfilling a promise to those who feared his wrath and vengeance.

How lonely he must have been before he took her captive. He had no one there in that little cabin with him, only periodic visits from Ada, but could she really be counted as suitable company for the Tyrant? He seemed to enjoy the nights when Claire would lie in front of the fireplace, hugging her knees as her gaze became fixed on the flames that wildly licked the bricks for the desire of the same freedom that she would dream of. But only the smoke traveled up to the air to escape, much like her dreams. She was the fire, something needed, something heeded, and something that was untamable, and these were things that Wesker recognized in her.

The only person that would even think of putting something like that in such a lyrical form would be Wesker. Being around him for so long had caused his habits to rub off on her, and she sometimes found herself sitting the way he did: legs crossed, looking thoughtful when there was no problem to solve at all. No longer able to hold her tongue, she spoke, all heads turning to her to hear her first words of the night.

"Kick what's wrong with Wesker?"

Grinning, Leon leaned forward. "Are you kidding me, what isn't?" Still, Claire's eyes remained on Kick as she tried to ignore Leon's sarcasm.

"What do you mean?" the Tyrant asked, avoiding eye contact by taking a swig of her drink. Apprehension was thick in the air as she tried to pretend that she was still hungry by stealing a fry from Leon's plate.

With a look of disbelief, Claire leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I mean that night when you had to save his life, when he was choking on his own blood." Still, Kick pretending that she did not know what the redhead was talking about, and she still would not look at her. Needlessly elaborating, Claire said, "Let's see, he pukes everywhere, he has these strange tremors, he coughs all the time, and did I mention the sudden sobbing?"

She had managed to take the attention away from her with her ranting, and now the group stared at the woman with inquisitive minds, brains thirsty for the same knowledge that she held. Staring down at the table, Kick, said casually, "Wesker's a morphine addict."

A moment of silence penetrated the group, until a disbelieving Saul gave a single laugh. "You gotta be kidding right?"

Glass in hand, Kick finally met Claire's blue eyes. "No. I'm not." As she walked away from the table Saul's smile faded away, along with Leon's.

Picking up his fork, Saul mumbled, "Someone's on her period." His comment received not even a nervous grin, and all of the people who were once Wesker's men wondered how they never saw it. Even when he was human he tended to have those tremors, sobbed the same way when he thought he was alone. Loyalty to him clouded their vision to everything; when he came along he was so charming and so confident, how could someone question his intentions? They had never been too perceptive when it came to him, even when they should have questioned someone so new and yet so perfect and cohesive in their little family.

Even though Claire had the answer, she still did not feel better; this was something so unexpected, so unwanted. Even worse, she had run Kick away, probably causing memories to flood back from the past that were detrimental to her mental health. So now she had a piece that had been missing from the puzzle, but from the way her friend left so hurriedly she could tell that there was more.

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He had been so quiet ever since he came up from dinner, and the look in his gray eyes told her that something was on his mind. Leon sat at the foot of the bed he shared with Kick, every now and then looking back at her as she sat up against the headboard, reading a very thick, fiction book. Not once did her eyes stray from its pages, not even when he would glance back and only be able to say, "Um." She had not meant to ignore him; sometimes she got caught up in the world that resided in those pages, putting herself in the main character's position.

"Kick?" He asked, this time staring ahead at the closet doors.

Sighing at this interruption, she looked up from her book and set it on the nightstand. "What?" At this he turned around, but he did not answer right away. He moved up closer to her, looking into her red eyes.

"What was it like?" Her face was emotionless, but only because he did not elaborate. She had been through many things in her life, and he was referring to which occurrence? "Being a…" He trailed off when her mouth formed into the shape of an "O." This was a subject that was bound to come up, and she did not blame him for being curious.

Inhaling, she looked down at the purple sheets that covered their bed, and for moment Leon thought she was going to cry. "It's sad to not remember your first 'cause you don't want to." By the way she looked at him, he could tell that she was suppressing some painful emotions, but some day she would have to come to terms with her past occupation.

For encouragement, Leon placed a hand on her thigh and gave her a weak smile. "Since I'm the first man that 'Kick' has been with that means anything, you can consider me your first." His smile remained, but her expression did not change. In her eyes he could see a secret, but he tried to tell himself that it was just her past that was bothering her.

"Actually Leon… There was a man before you." His smile began to fade, but traces of it could still be seen, for his hope was not all lost. "Wesker took care of me. And he was real good to me." Licking her dry lips, she leaned forward, but he only sat there.

"This was a long time ago right?" The nervous smile returned, but when she did not reply, Leon jumped up from the bed. "Oh shit!" he groaned, pacing back and forth while shaking his head.

Saddened by the pain she had caused him, she sat up on her knees, reaching out to him. "It was the day of the trade! I had just gotten my memory back a little while before then and he was there and Isabella wanted him!"

At this, he stopped pacing abruptly, looking down at her. "Kick, you are Isabella. And if she still wants Wesker, then so do you." Without a word with fire in his eyes, he left the room with her right behind him, pleading with him to stay. She did not dare lay a hand on him, if she was so desperate to stop him, who knew what her true strength could do. It seemed the whole house had heard the cries; they all stood around in the foyer, watching Leon hurry down the stairs toward the double doors that would serve as his exit tonight.

"Please Leon you can't leave me too!" At her last word, Claire knew that it was a reference to her mother, the woman who had thrown her daughter to the wolves in order to benefit her herself. Rush had appeared, and now he was stopping Kick from running after Leon against the cold, hard rain that was letting itself into the door. She felt like her heart was going to beat its way out of her chest, like it was about to explode from the shock that she just received. Wait, it was beating, her heart was beating, and fast. Clutching her chest, she fell to the floor in pain, choking as she shed tears that were coming too fast for her body to keep up. These functions were so rarely felt and it was hitting her even harder than Leon's exit, hurting her even worse than the tears she saw building up in his eyes.

She could hear her colleagues whispering, but not to each other. No, they were all asking her what was going on, all staring down at her as she panicked on the floor. Only Claire could be made out in the mesh of faces, only her voice was distinguishable in the flurry of sounds, until her heart began pounding in her eardrums as hard as it could. Why was this happening to her, did the shock of it all cause this, and how would this affect her body in the long run? She heard Claire tell them to get away, to back up while she helped her, and then Kick understood that she had more questions for her, that she would have no pity on her too-broken mind tonight.

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Claire had no idea that there was a billiard room, but right now that fact was not important. What was important was that Kick was breathing and drinking, two dangerous combinations. A bottle of Jack Daniel's in one hand and a cigarette in the other, she stared down at the colored balls that Claire was shaping into a triangle, a sad look causing her eyes fill with tears and shine like glass. Giving a cough, Kick picked up a pool stick after setting the half full bottle on a nearby table, making faces at the last swig she took.

"Blegh!" Shaking her head, the Tyrant shook her shoulders as if she just had a sudden chill, the expression of sadness still on her beautiful face. "Let's just say you got heads on a coin," she slurred, but Claire knew that she was nowhere near inebriated yet. It would take so much more than that to bring her down into such a deplorable state, but Claire only sighed and took aim at the white ball.

After the spheres scattered, creating a rainbow across the green plain, Kick sighed, for once not enjoying a game she normally won. "What do you wanna know?" she asked, knowing that Claire wanted more than to be good company, that she wanted something out of her the same as everyone. An uneasy smile appeared on her face as she tried to find a mild way of putting it, whatever "it" was.

Taking a shot at a striped, orange ball, Claire looked nervous but it was not because of the game. She missed the shot, cursing to herself, but at the same time one could tell that she was merely trying to find something more to say to her friend without upsetting her. "Kick, I was wondering about him." Normally when no name had initially been introduced to a conversation, still it was known that the male who served as the topic of discussion was Wesker. He needed no introduction, no red carpet, and no spotlight for one could pick him out of the crowd easily.

He was no needle in the haystack, no normal man that you could simply pass by on the sidewalk without marveling at the beauty he undeservingly had. Carved from marble by the hands of God, a man that stood six feet tall with no inhibitions, a man that had no weaknesses. Women envied him so that they had no desire for him, or maybe it was more than that, maybe it was because they could feel that he was too good to be true.

Knocking a solid red ball into a corner pocket, Kick grinned, knowing that Claire wanted to know everything there was to know about him. "Oh, you wanna get down to the knitty-gritty huh?" This sudden accusation caused Claire to blush and shake her head mechanically, and her actions only gave away that she knew she had been caught trying to fool the broken-hearted and slightly intoxicated Kick. A lopsided grin appeared on the Tyrant's face and Claire grew nervous, fearing that new conclusions would be drawn about her character. No time for her to worry about her perfect-young-college-student image now though, not when her friend was so willing to tell her everything she secretly wanted to know.

"He's cold," Kick stated out of the blue, missing her shot at a purple solid, "and at the same time he's warm," she added, seeing Claire open her mouth to make a smart comment. "He doesn't hate, but he doesn't love so openly. And his smile… there's always somethin' more to it than we will ever know."

"Tell me about the abuse Kick!" the redhead demanded, but her voice did not back her up with the strength she intended for it to have, instead it only proved that she was afraid of what she would hear.

Angered by the attitude she so boldly displayed, Kick irately decided to use her pool stick as a cane, and Claire winced at the sound that the stick made as it hit the wooden floor, already hearing Chris or someone complaining about chips in the floor. She let out a single laugh before flipping her black hair behind her, smirking at the frightened woman that was her friend. Kick would never question her relationship with Claire at all, she even betrayed the only man that was there for her through it all for this woman.

Smirk disappearing, she sighed. "Broken bones… so many. Jaw, left shoulder, hip, seven fingers, three toes, both ankles, one arm, and of course the nose. He broke even more in my sleep if he found was being… naughty. A jealous one too."

Her smirk returned, and Claire felt that at any moment she would become sick if she heard anymore, but she knew that Kick would not stop since she had asked for it.

"One day," she groaned as she plopped down into an armchair, "I was talking to a young scientist. Very cute, he modeled to save up enough money so that he could even take the test required to get into 'Umbrella's Elite.' He was blond, but not as blond as Wesker, he had perfect white teeth and sea green eyes. Needless to say someone his age should have been with someone my age.

"Wesker was old. He was old enough to be my father if he had me at a young age, and this bothered him; it was before he obtained his immortality. He saw me talking to that guy one day…"

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On such sunny days as this, Wesker would pick out his Isabella's clothes, and today he had left her a beautiful blue sundress that that stopped a few inches above her knees. Gianna was as sulky as ever, once again suffering from the effects of cocaine withdrawal; she could never quit for long periods of time. Umbrella had been harsh on the eldest Abolhassan, but to them the youngest had turned out to be a diamond in the rough, a prodigy that whose intellect was being compared to that of William Birkin. Maybe that was why he stood so far from her at dinner and in the labs, also his misogynistic comments tended to add to her theory that he just flat out hated women with brains. That thought caused her to remember a particular comment he had made recently.

Wesker had just praised her for her well use of her brains, and so Birkin had snidely remarked, "Towards you."

She had quickly picked up on his blowjob joke, and purposely dropped the blood sample he had taken from himself earlier. It was worth the screaming from him; she got to see him wince and whimper like a girl scout once more, and this only added to his mortification. Remembering the incident made her chuckle, causing her exhausted twin to stare at her confusedly.

Brad, the young blond they had met last week grabbed her around the waist and smiled. "What's so funny?" he asked in his New England accent.

Grinning at the stone walk she shook her head and pulled away from him. She knew that if she was caught by either Wesker or Roger that she would be in for a beating.

Thinking the same thing, Gianna grabbed her sister's hand and pulled her closer to her. "Hey, she's mine!" She grinned at Brad, running her hand through her sisters dark brown hair as they walked on. The three were quiet as they walked on, seeing people they knew walking their children to the facility's park Every now and then a man would call Gianna's name, but she pretended not hear; Isabella had told her that she would not be having sex around her anymore.

"They all want you anyway!" she had yelled during an argument. "They just want me because they know that Wesker _owns_ you!"

That comment had hurt her, and it also made her wonder about the relationship she had with Wesker. He had given her to Roger, yet and still he asked that she sneak out every night to stay with him. He had even told her that he loved her in the heat of the moment, and what made it so believable was that it was in the church that they attended every Sunday. Although when one thought about the setting rather than the situation, it only made it both sad and comical.

Suddenly, Gianna dropped her twin's hand, and Isabella immediately knew what the problem was: Antony. He was young Italian who had been sent to the facility to be near his father who he shared the same passion for science with. His nationality was what drew her to him, and this was one guy that Isabella did not mind her sister seeing. He was a lot better than that Bartleby who she had been sneaking out at night to meet. He had been the one supplying her with cocaine, feeding her habit.

Pleadingly, Gianna looked to her twin who gave her a nod. Smiling, she skipped to Antony who had obviously had been waiting for her. Before they walked down the trail to the park, he gave Isabella and Brad a nod and then gave all his attention to Gianna who was rapidly speaking in Italian. Sighing, Isabella continued her walk, hearing her company's footsteps matching hers.

"So," he began, stepping closer to her, "How long are you gonna be here?"

Looking up at him she answered with, "A little bit over forever."

"Sounds like Wesker's keeping you on a short leash."

"He's been pretty good to me." He had, but he had his days when he allowed the psycho in him to show itself, and on those days Isabella had been forced to reevaluate her thinking about him. Rather than saving her life he had picked her from one undesirable placed and thrown her into another that was even more life threatening. Still, she could not pull away from him or his "love."

Clearing his throat, Brad tried to smile; he'd known of the abuse. "He seems…" He had not meant to trail off, there was just nothing nice to say about the man. He scowled at him whenever Brad walked by, and he even gave unfair comments on his reports. He would only have been impartial if Brad could choose to stay away from his Isabella, but that was not going to happen.

They stopped walking and Isabella stared up into Brad's eyes, enjoying the color that he had been blessed with. "It's best if you just leave Wesker's name be. He's a great man, just troubled." Brad's gaze had left her, and she thought it was because of what she said, but she was not that lucky. Daring to turn around, she swallowed the lump in her throat, already knowing who awaited her. As always, he wore all black and his shades, as always, he had his arms folded over his chest.

"Hi Dr. Wesker," Brad chimed, knowing that he would get no salutation in return.

"You're needed in lab 18 O'Connell."

"Yes sir. See ya around," he added, looking back into Isabella's deep brown eyes. He jogged off, leaving her at Wesker's mercy, something he did not possess at the moment.

"I- I was looking for you this morning," she stammered, but he did not respond, he only took a step towards her. Automatically, she took a step back, her action causing him to raise a blond eyebrow. Wordlessly, he was questioning her defiance, something that he declared deserved punishment. Hoping to gain back some of his respect, she took two steps forward. "Wesker please-"

Before she could finish begging he grabbed her by her long hair, wrapping it around his fist to pull her closer as they walked back to his cabin. Every passerby they say averted their eyes from the girl that Wesker was dragging behind him, fearing his wrath even more than Isabella.

"Do you want him?" he asked as soon as the cabin was in sight.

"No!" she cried, grabbing his shirt as he tightened his grip. The pain in her scalp was excruciating, she felt several hairs be pulled from the roots, probably even a few follicles being pulled out as well.

"If you won't tell the truth I'll find out for myself!" he growled, throwing her to the ground. He ignored her cry of pain as he struggled to bind her wrists with one hand, she was actually resisting today, but it was only because people were watching them with wide eyes. As he reached for her thighs her face turned red with embarrassment and tears sprang forth from her glassy eyes. The embarrassment had caused her to become shaky and weak, causing her to go into a state of shock and disbelief. He easily pried her thighs apart and she was so gone that she did not even gasp when she felt his cold hand massaging her.

"Dry," she whispered, staring up at the clear blue sky, trying to block out the sounds of murmurs, to block out the memories of her first time.

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She had ran out on Kick, who had begun laughing maniacally at the horrid recollection that Claire had forced her to dredge up. This would not be the last time that she inquire about the past, but when Claire heard that story she did not want to hear anymore. She felt horrible for asking Kick those questions, and it only made her feel worse that she still wanted to hear more about Wesker, everyone's tormentor. Her room was dark, but rather than flicking on the light she just locked the door, feeling tears stinging her eyes. The darkness though had begun to unsettle her, causing her to blindly reach for the light, but it would not come on.

"Shit," she cursed, fumbling around in the dark. The bed was not far, so she would just plop down on it and let sleep pull her farther into darkness where Wesker lie in wait. She could not take another step though, something was telling her to stand still. Something was wrong, she was not alone. Then she felt it, an iron grip around her wrist that she could not escape.

"Dear heart," he sang, and even though it was pitch black she could tell that there was a smile on his face. "Time to go home."

A/N: I finally did it! I'm so sorry for the long wait but please review I've just been busy with work and stuff… ok I only _have _to work 15 hours a week but still filing warranty claims is tiring! And I come in early and leave late everyday. I was looking at some new Claire/Wesker fics and I was just perusing through one and I saw the initials AUA being used. I was like "WTF?" I was surprised at first trying to figure out what the hell has been happening since I left. I'm not the only one using that? I don't know if others were using it before I wrote this but I do know that when I came up with this fic it had a crappy meaning: Anti Umbrella Association. That's the only other fic I've seen it used in but I know I published mine first so just in case someone looks at the names and wonders… yeah, mine was here first. I'll be damned if somebody accuses me of stealing cause no I did not, check the damn dates. So anyway please review and forgive me for leaving y'all hangin! I even plan on giving Kick her own fic but her story's gonna be changed and Claire will be in it. It'll Be Isabella/Wesker and Claire/Steve… ok I don't know about the last one but she's gonna be with somebody!


	18. The Death of Chris Redfield

A/N: This is a short chapter. Since it's been so long I realized that I had to post SOMETHING. It focuses on Chris and Kick's relationship in the end and I'm showing how important they really are to each other, something I should have done more in past chapters. I just assumed that their relationship should have been apparent.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too.

He did not need to force his hand, nor did he threaten her, Claire simply complied with his demand that she come with him. Like teenagers they had left through her window, but this was no fairytale, no Romeo and Juliet. They were not star-cross'd lovers, but they were instead destined enemies. Although, at times it did not feel like that at all, and this was such a time. It was no longer unsettling to have him around, to have him staring at her, or even to throw quick glances at her as he drove them to the motel room they now occupied.

According to the weather channel it would rain all night, but come morning the sun would show its face again. Wesker stood at the vanity shaving, not nicking his skin once, but only because doing so with such a pathetic blade was impossible on his marble skin. Unable to understand anything else that the anchors were saying, Claire sighed and hit the power button before throwing the remote down on the bed. Her captor -could he even be called that? - finished up and threw her a quick glance before getting comfortable in the armchair in the corner.

"Where do you think Kick went?"

After two hours of silence in the car Claire had asked him why she was the one he had taken, to which he replied, "Isabella was nowhere in the vicinity." In her grief, she had run off, probably in search of Leon.

"Knowing Isabella she may be at a bar." His tone showed that for once he was not worried about her, the woman he had caused so much trouble over. "She will be all right." Licking her lips, Claire settled in beneath the sheets and clicked off the lamp on the nightstand. Just as she had closed her eyes, Wesker suddenly asked, "Why didn't you fight?"

Not even bothering to open her eyes, she answered him, but she was not even sure if it was the truth she spoke. "I didn't want you to hurt Chris or the others."

"By others you mean Rush?" It was not really a question, more of a taunting statement, and she could not even deny it, that the newcomer had impacted her so profoundly. "You trust him already," he added, and Claire knew that he was now prying.

Opening her eyes, she sat up and stared into the black corner, somewhat able to see his red glare from behind his shades. "It's because-"

"He's a male?"

His insinuation had not gone unnoticed, nor would he go unpunished for such a bold and rude comment. "I'm not like you Wesker; fucking everything that comes along in a red dress." This received a chuckle, strange, she had become so accustomed to him launching at her. "Someone had their hit today," she murmured. That did it. She could hear him walking towards the bed, could feel him weigh down the mattress, but she did not respond to his movement, not at all.

"I suppose that was fair," he whispered, reaching for her cheek. Rather than inch away, Claire turned her face into his hand, wincing at his cold skin. Why had she done that just now? It was quite routine for her to inch away, to gasp in fear at his cold touch, but tonight she was being bold. Awkward described the moment, disturbing seemed to dramatic and too "formal" of a word to add appropriate meaning to their relationship.

Ugh, Claire flinched at that word.

Not bothering to elaborate, Claire simply whispered, "You humiliated her." His cold touch disappeared, and he shifted, something a man such as Wesker rarely did. "I don't get you two at all."

Standing up, he looked back at her small form, easily making out her features in the dark. "No one should."

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She felt ashamed to even think the word, but the truth was that Kick had simply meandered into the alley, not as drunk as she wanted to be. The bartender had cut her off; of course a human of her size would need a limit to how much alcohol they could consume. The only reason she had been in so many bars was not because she was set on drinking her problems away, but because she figured that a distraught Leon would be in at least one of them. Something caught her eye, a figure at the end of the alley was quickly retreating, and from the walk she could tell that it was a woman. There was only one woman who could go undetected by Kick for so long.

_Ada_.

The Asian woman put her hands in her jacket pockets and continued to twist away, hoping to herself that Kick did not go after her. Scowling at the spy, she walked at a quick pace around the back of the bar, and began a light jog when she saw the street ahead. Ada passed right in front of her, but Kick extended an arm, blocking her progress.

Hiding her fear and surprise, Ada gave Kick a suspicious smile and stepped back from her reach. "Oh, hi Isabella."

Seeing through her casual greeting, Kick grinned, "Oh cut the bullshit you sad little, whore. Where is Leon?" It was a well known fact that where Leon went, Ada followed, as long as she was off duty that is.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. Nice chatting with y-"

Ada had not expected Kick to grab her by the throat, squeezing as hard as the human body could take. It truly delighted her to see the infamous Ada Wong squirming and clawing at her hand for freedom. Bored with her, Kick released her neck and watched her grab her now red throat, coughing and gasping for air.

"Where is Leon?" she asked once more, her tone the same as before; Ada's suffering had not disturbed her one bit. Ada shook her head, saying that she did not know, and Kick remembered how much the conniving woman treasured her life; she was telling the truth for once. "Why were you looking for him?"

"Wesker went to the AUA house."

Eyes wide, Kick looked into Ada's brown eyes, wanting nothing but the truth from her. "Why?"

"I can't say. But he took Claire." Propping herself up against the brick wall of a building, she gained a new look that had both jealousy and confusion in it. "It seems he's found a new muse."

Ignoring the thoughts that only the old Isabella would have, Kick inquired further about Wesker's intentions. "Why would he want Claire? Think Ada."

A bitter laugh leaving her throat, Ada pushed herself from the wall and stared down into Kick's crimson red eyes. "He let her stay in his home. He has tolerated her snooping and her sassy mouth for far too long. What do you think he keeps her around for? His health?!"

"NO!"

At Ada's words, Claire sat upright in her bed, realizing that what had just occurred was a nightmare. She did not want to believe that Wesker simply enjoyed her company and now more that anything she wanted him to stay far away from her. If he came for her then she would resist; everything was awkward when she thought of it now. She had slept in his house, seen him naked, watched him work, and even held conversations with him. Sick men concocted sick ideas in their heads.

No more damsel in distress.

________________________________________________________________________

Early that morning the house was noisy with talk that Leon had returned. Everyone but Kick and Rush had come up to shake her happily with the news that he was in the kitchen making a sandwich as if he had never left. His return simply meant that all the bars were closed, not that he had come to permit a chance for reconciliation. When Claire had gone to check on Kick, the fact that Leon's things were undisturbed proved that the last thing on his mind was making up with the Tyrant. Still, Claire doubted that their love was dead; he was simply playing the role of clingy partner until he had milked it dry.

There was a disconcerting sight waiting for Claire downstairs, Kick and Chris sat face to face in the den, looking more serious than ever. The stares they gave were deadly, and no one dared to enter the room, it was as though it were roped off to the rest of the house.

"Claire." Rebecca stood behind her, and she gestured for her to follow her down to the basement where everyone else crowded around a phone. The speaker seemed to blast the silence that surrounded the person on the other line, but when Claire saw Leon sit next to Jill and rub his temples while Rebecca hit the mute button, she understood that they were listening in on Chris and Kick. Were they being so quiet because they suspected that the rest of the team was prying, or because they both dreaded the things that would leave their mouths? Someone sighed, and the occupants of the basement grabbed the bottom of the seats of their chairs, leaning close to the speaker.

Upstairs, Kick crossed her legs and sat back, showing that she would show no resistance to assert her true feelings in this conversation. This was important, and even though she knew that everyone was listening in, she did not care, and it was time that everyone understood her logic and see what her intended end result of her work at AUA was. "Chris… Don't be difficult and let go of this denial."

Without any reservations, with a tinge of pain in his voice he said, "You're for Wesker. So why don't you go work for him?"

She smirked at his accusation and took a breath, unneeded to support her body that was practically a walking corpse. "I never said that. And weren't you the one protecting my purity of such subversion?" Her tone was somewhat taunting, and this bothered Chris, that she would jump ship and exhibit defiance at the first sign of trouble.

"You won't give him up, and you won't voluntarily tell us everything you know."

Casually she said, "I don't remember _everything _Chris. They gave me back a lot but not the memories of my family before Gianna and I were sent off, nor did they tell me what happened to my existence as a human. I remember Wesker and Roger… Bart and Gianna. Abuse… and some training along with scenes with Birkin."

Looking regretful, his eyes softened. "You're right. But I'm concerned with what you'll do Kick, when we find Wesker. How are you gonna react when I kill him?"

At such a bold statement, her eyes became red slits and she folded her arms. "I thought I said no more denial." Her reaction frightened Chris for a moment; if he had been standing he was sure that he would have fallen backwards in shock. Had his trust been misplaced all along? Was Patricia right the whole time?

"Kick, it's the only way this thing'll end!'

"No!" she shouted, almost lunging forward into him. "You think and you think real hard Christopher Redfield! You got by on _luck_!" The emphasis she used made him flinch. As if she was scolding him, she pointed and waved her index finger at him, her eyes blazing a lighter red.

"Chris… you have been skirting by merely on Redfield luck." When he tried to speak she raised her voice to get her point across, to mute his forced hope. "Wesker could have killed you by now! You walk around like you're some kind of Batman but in actuality you gave the man a headache with some steel beams and the only reason he left your tired ass alive was because you caused him to burn his pretty face! If not for his cautiousness and vanity you would have been deader than one of those poor zombies you've been leading assaults on.

"You can't win," the Brazilian woman added contritely. "He's a frickin' Tyrant, probably stronger than me even and he doesn't even have telekinesis! He's strong and strong willed. Nothing is more dangerous than an ambitious man who has sold his soul countless times to overthrow the Devil himself.

"He's cheated Death, murdered him practically, and laughed in God's face, all the while jokingly spinning the wheel of fate as he taunts luck by saying, 'Let it be my day.' He murdered S..S. in the worst way possible: through other people, manipulation, and ungodly abominations. What the hell can you, a mere human do to stop him?"

For this question, he sat back, silent, contemplating a response. However, everything he came up with was seemingly taken from a movie where the hero always and impossibly finds a way to win. He could become his enemy, or he could die as a hero to their agency. The downside to that was that the world would never know or believe his accomplishments and bravery, he would be a silent hero whose gravestone weathered and decayed with time just as all old memories did. The immortals would only remember: Kick and Wesker, and they would remember his fall rather than his many rises.

Even with such a bleak and authentic conclusion to his life, he had to believe that there was a chance, that there was more. "Logically… there is nothing that I _should _be able to do, but Kick look at the things we fight: Tyrants, super humans, hell even zombies! How real is any of that? If those things were made real because of blind ambition for hope of a new world that some crazy geniuses wanted then I know that me winning is not entirely impossible."

His hope resurrected, he declared, "I will kill Wesker!"

Not as optimistic, Kick sat back again, this time she seemed to be choking back tears. "Then you have sealed your own fate."

"If I die by his hand then I will go with my beliefs and fighting for the world."

"No." His brow rose questionably, not understanding her meaning. "If you kill him you seal your fate."

"How?"

A long pause passed between them before she got the words out, and by the look of regret on her face he could tell that she was making a difficult decision. "I'll kill you."

Her words were clear, and she knew that her vow was causing an uproar downstairs, or it had caused complete silence that was brought on by both disbelief and confusion. She meant what she said, it was not just a threat used to prolong Wesker's life as a payment for all he had done for her. In his eyes Chris told her that if that was how it would end up then so be it, he would die at the hands of his comrade, the woman that he saved by putting aside his prejudice. She had repaid him her debt one thousand times over and he did not even expect what she had given him in the past. Wesker hurt her but he had saved her from a life of debauchery and drugs, from walking the streets until eventually her life ended because of her getting into the wrong car or worse.

Looking down she sighed. "I sold my body to demons, but I've sold my soul to a Devil."

"I understand, Isabella. I just hope that _Kick_ does too."

Chuckling to herself, she looked back up at him. "I've managed to somewhat merge those two identities. I have Isabella's memories, but Kick's morals. But both sides scream at me, in both ears. I have to do the right thing: to help you, but to preserve what is left of the man that saved my life."

"So it's settled then. I _will _Wesker."

With equal determination in her eyes she followed Chris' manner of thinking and stood up, stepping closer to him so that they could be face to face. Before embracing the man that had stolen Wesker's spotlight in her life, the man that had become her new savior, she banished all emotions from her posture and face that would betray her display of fortitude and said loud enough for everyone to hear, "And I'll kill you."


	19. Wrong

A/N: The day I posted my note, the computer came home! I was excited. Anyway, here's the chapter! I will try though; I will go back to writing the chapters out and then typing them up so that I can be done with Part I. Yes, this is only Part I lol.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, and I forgot that Saul and Patricia- ooh and Bartleby and Gianna are mine too.

Rocking back and forth on the bed, Gianna hugged her tiny legs as she bit back a scream of pain. Cocaine detox proved to be a difficult process that neither of the girls had anticipated. Only half an hour ago did she shut up about Wesker bringing them there to kill them, but Isabella was trying to hold herself together in hopes that her show of strength would inspire her sister. Inside though, she knew that Gianna would relapse, time and time again, and so she would have to relapse with her to put herself through the same things that she was suffering. She was her sister, her twin, and as another piece of her, she would have to endure the same things.

The most important question was whether she _could _endure it. Gianna was set in her ways and very hardheaded, rather than believing that someone actually was concerned with her well-being she unleashed her paranoia full blast. No matter how many times Isabella begged and pleaded that she give in and progress with her, her twin would fall back into the deep depression that would push her back into drugs. With her steps back came punishments, and as strong as the youngest twin was, it was still too much to take. Wesker showed no mercy, though he seemed to be harder on Isabella, almost as if he knew that she was purposely relapsing to match her sister's condition.

It was betrayal in his eyes, but she would rather betray him than her sister. Nevertheless, the way that he looked at her after she disappointed him said that she would not always follow big sister's lead. When Gianna let out a bloodcurdling scream, the Brazilian sister covered her ears, wanting to scream for her to shut up. Even though she felt it as well, she refused to break down to her twin's level; one of them had to be strong, and Isabella always proved to perform better. Somewhere, Wesker was seated in front of a monitor, eyebrows pointed inward and legs crossed as he watched their pain.

Hugging herself, Isabella stood up from the chair next to the bed and made her way downstairs, just to get away from the cries that came over and over. Biting her knuckles, she plopped down on the couch in front of the fireplace, knowing that he was still watching. The way he referred to Gianna, she knew that he preferred her as his subject of attention; she had more strength and some kind of morals. Isabella had become a human somewhere along the line, and yet why could Gianna not feel the need to better herself? Was she depending on Isabella the way that their mother had? If so, she would hate her sibling for such a thing; their mother was the reason that they were in this mess.

After she was told that they were in America, she only asked for money, but she hadn't heard from them so why wasn't she looking for them? She would easily have them deported and brought back home- well, not anymore now that they were in the custody of Wesker and Umbrella. Still, it bothered her that she was not causing a national emergency now that her sources of income were gone. Unless…

"Miss Abolhassan." That voice was so distinguished, cultured, and despite the appeal, it was still bone chillingly cold. He was so catlike that she even failed to notice his shadow, a skill that he claimed he would help her acquire in due time. At the moment, he looked like he simply wanted to join her in front of the fireplace, and no other intention could be seen under his cool exterior and shades. Still, she knew all too well that he could snap in an instant, and so she unnecessarily made room for him on the sofa.

She made no sound; she only sat there feeling an unwanted smile tug at the corner of her mouth. She was only sixteen and so it was natural that she have schoolgirl feelings for her mentor. Her want to repress these feelings though was because of Gianna, who was upstairs suffering because of his harsh teachings.

Sitting a foot away from her, he sighed and crossed his legs, and right now, she hated him for his mannerisms, his voice, everything that added to his appeal. Even so, she still wanted to run her hand through his perfect blond hair that he always had slicked back, and remove those ever-present shades. She wanted to hate him but she could not, she could only stare.

"Such a lovely day for a lovely woman such as yourself to be cooped up in this dreary cabin." His sudden attempt at conversation made her flinch; she knew that he could not stand it when she hated him. But she hated it when he knew that she hated him; it made things more awkward than ever, and he appeared to be using reverse psychology. He had a point though, for someone from Brazil she was becoming awfully pale, but Gianna was causing that. All she wanted to do was relapse, suffer at Wesker's hand, and then suffer from withdrawal.

A rather distasteful joke had been made about the notorious twins, they were called the Gias, but no one realized or cared that this caused Gianna more pain. This pain caused her to feel loneliness, to feel the same sting of despair that the very woman they compared her to felt. Why would someone hope that such a fate befall someone, no matter their past or what they had done? Would they appreciate being compared to Dr. Frankenstein? Probably.

Wesker lightly pulled her up from the couch and out the door. Despite her sensitivity to the light, Wesker pulled her forward off the porch, a light breeze causing her sundress to be ruffled. She bit her lip as they made their way down the simple, dirt trail, and noticing this, Wesker squeezed her tiny hand.

"As I said, lovely." He was had won that, but she could not get up the energy to smile. If she were not being pulled along, then her steps would have probably faltered, and she would have fell to the ground. So sad that Gianna, her own twin, had caused such exhaustion in her. "I know that Gianna is your half sister, your twin," he quickly added, "but Isabella do you really believe it proper to follow her badly-set examples?"

Taking a deep breath, she finally looked up at his shades, seeing past them into his blue eyes. "Um… What are you talking about?" She sounded so pitiful that she was almost believable, but her mentor knew better. Smirking, he looked down at his feet while they walked along, letting silence fill the space between them. A weeping willow took up space in an open area that they had meant to make into a playground, and Wesker led her down the unused path.

Confused, she trailed behind him, as they made their way into the shade she felt the mood change. It seemed that Wesker had softened a bit, and when he looked back at her, she felt a fluttering sensation in her stomach. Was Wesker up to something today? It would be cruel of him to lure her out to such a beautiful spot on a gorgeous day, only to punish her for her insubordination and undying loyalty to her sister.

But as they sat side by side in the shade, she felt no malicious intent was in his sincere grin. A rush of relief left her in a gasp, and she accepted the embrace that he pulled her into as they watched some birds fly by, disappearing in the distance. That day would be forever seared into her mind; that was the day that Wesker changed the game completely.

________________________________________________________________________

They were shocked, should they have been? The return of Kick's memories -some of them at least- should have signaled that things would change and give both Wesker and his enemies an advantage. But despite the outcome of the final battle, Wesker would win, either he would kill Chris or she would. He would pull through in his battle with Wesker, standing over his finally lifeless body, and Kick would emerge from the smoke as she held back tears that stung her red eyes. Expecting her, Chris would smile at his victory, but it would be a sad smile that he wore as he looked up and closed his eyes, accepting the bullet that Kick would send through the back of his skull.

He would fall next to Wesker, his captain, and they would both share a grave in the crumbling tomb that was Umbrella. Claire's blue eyes shined with tears, but Jill silently denied such a fate for her lover. Only Rebecca dared to proclaim aloud that Kick could not do such a thing, but she was a project of Wesker; she would do whatever was necessary to make everything "fair." No one favored her decision, and yet no one spoke out, no one could conjure up anger for the Tyrant. After all, she was only doing what was expected of her, what she believed to be right.

Finally, Leon decided to at least speak of his lover, -or ex, no one was quite sure- "Of course she can, after all, she slept with Wesker."

Claire had opened her mouth to defend Kick's mental state at the time that that had happened, but the look in Leon's eyes told her not to dispute him on this issue. Wesker. He had so much power over them all; he could easily kidnap Claire, and could manipulate Kick with using sad facts from the past to support the various reasons why she should rejoin him. Only Saul and Rush were the most together of the group right now, neither of them showing a sign of disbelief, rather very pensive poses. That was another one of Rush's appeals: his calm demeanor, yet this was another thing that seemed off about his behavior and habits.

Something about him was eerily familiar, but she wanted to trust their new captain, something she could not do when they were under the command of the jealous and vicious Patricia. At the moment Claire was wishing that she would show back up, and be sane enough the feel the ass kicking that she deserved. That day would never come though; no one would take her into his or her ranks, not even a place like Umbrella, although they seemed to be a prime example of deception itself. With a sigh and a look of defeat, Claire sank back into her seat. As though the events upstairs had sent her a physical blow, Rebecca grasped at her heart, feeling it beating as the blood pulsed through her brain.

Processing this was difficult for all of them, especially when Chris, destroyer of all things Umbrella, set aside his prejudice and allowed Kick to live. On the other hand, maybe Kick allowed them to live; she was powerful enough to have taken them all on, even though they were all on guard as soon as she could stand on those unused, wobbly legs. And yet Chris had nothing negative to say to his comrade, for this, Claire thought he was stupid, or at least that he had lost it somewhere along the lines of fighting zombies. If he could forgive a woman who had just threatened his life so easily, then why could he not abandon all priorities that consisted of something having to do with Wesker? Yes, he killed STARS, but basically admitted to owning them and their jobs anyway, they were at his disposal.

Oh no, she was defending the actions of that monster but not Kick. Wesker had proclaimed on several occasions that he would kill her brother, while Kick had just said it with a tint of emotion in her voice, and that emotion pleaded with Chris that he forget about pursuing these silly thoughts and dreams of getting revenge on his captain by taking his life. Standing up, she took a deep breath and headed for the stairs, her comrades at her heels demanding to know exactly what she thought she was doing. When she reached the den she saw that her brother and the woman who had become like her sister over her time with AUA were still embracing, now smiling, but tears rolled down their cheeks as the events of today echoed throughout the room. Everyone but Leon's eyes softened at the sight, he only frowned at such easy forgiving.

Seeing Leon's scowl, Claire placed a hand on his forearm, a hurt expression upon her face that was caused by his negativity. "Leon, you know you still love her. And you can see how much this is killing her. But this is what she was brainwashed to do: Wesker's will. She needs us more than anything right now to right all of those wrongs done to her."

He only pulled her into his arms, his chest to her back while he bit his lip. Something was wrong with his Kick, when her whole body suddenly tensed, he could tell, but he did not know what it could be. "Saul." He whispered.

The brunet turned to face him, as well as Barry. "What going on?" he whispered back.

"Something's wrong her," he mouthed, not wanting the women to know what was going on; their dreams had been shattered one too many times.

"What?" Barry mouthed back, fear taking place of the emotions he was feeling just a few seconds ago.

Squeezing Claire tighter, he inaudibly said, "Something isn't right."

"What are we gonna do about it?" Saul had saw what he was talking about as Kick and Chris released each other, a vacant stare on the Tyrant's face. Claire tore away from Leon's hold and followed Rebecca and Jill to gang up on Chris and Kick with a huge hug. They were all crying, but they could not hate Kick, only distrust her.

"I'm in, whatever it is," Rush declared, coming out of nowhere.

Knowing if there was any trouble that they would need all the help possible with the with Tyrant, Leon nodded. "Everyone stand guard over Chris tonight. We take all of Kick's guns, or anything else that can be used as a weapon from our room. I have a bad feeling about this."

A/N: Yay! I updated! I wanted to make it longer but I was more concentrated on at least submitting a chapter. Please review and I hope no one gave up on me!


	20. Concerns

A/N: Ok, Celt111 brought this to my attention: I have not given Jill and Claire alone time to speak about… really anything. So I had to do a little something for them.

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, Saul, Rush, Patricia, Bartleby, Gianna and my other characters are mine too.

With what had just happened, -Kick's vow to avenge Wesker- Jill certainly needed a cup of coffee. She could not help but reevaluate her thinking; she believed that she had misjudged Kick's character, all because she had managed to get past Chris' walls. Never had she questioned the Tyrant, never had she though bad about her, but now… _Isabella_ had set herself up for everything she would receive from Jill: an unwelcoming attitude, distrust, and eyes that would watch her as though she were prey.

Could Jill really be so cruel though? Claire's punishment for Chris' drunken mistake proved that true, but she did not like being that way. Wesker was a perfect example: she never _hated_ her captain; she had been more in a state of disbelief than anything else. He had caused so many to die, destroyed families, and broken the hearts of those who had obediently followed him. Yes, Jill would admit that she was heart-broken, something that only one other person would admit to: Rebecca.

Chris… he only showed it by the look in his eyes. Barry was simply disappointed that his misplaced trust had been the result of lack of judgment.

"Jill?" Claire walked through the kitchen door, nervously giving a lopsided smile.

Sadly smiling, Jill said, "Pull up a stool Red." Claire did as she said, staring down at the countertop; this was an awkward moment. Still, Claire knew that she had to take this time and treat it preciously. The relationship she had with Jill had been strained, and even though Claire knew why, she could not understand the brunette's reasoning. "I owe you an apology," she suddenly said.

At this, Claire looked up, staring into sad eyes. "It's all right. We have other things to worry about now." Though Jill agreed that was the truth, she still felt as though she owed Claire more than a simple apology. She owed her an explanation as to why she steered clear of her, why she ignored her for so long. Seeing the determination in her eyes, Claire gave in and said, "Or, you can say what you feel you need to say."

Looking thoughtful, Jill began biting her bottom lip, searching for the right things to say. "I could blame this on Patricia easily, but I won't let her take the fall for my own actions." It had been all of their fault: Chris, Jill, and Patricia. Chris knew how out of control he was when he drank, and Patricia had been wrong for taking advantage of Jill's lover. Still, Jill committed the worst crime of all, and that was punishing someone who had come into the house completely ignorant to the damage that had been done. "I was wrong for treating you so… like you didn't even exist.

"I was afraid though, that if I spoke to you I would try and hurt Chris' reputation. And I didn't want to turn you two against each other. I didn't want you to hate me either."

"I forgive you, Jill." The way she said it, she made it sound like it was so easy. This trait in Claire frightened Jill more than anything, what if she continued to misjudge potentially dangerous people the way they had all done? With this in mind, she remembered the closeness that the young Redfield shared with their new captain. Only Leon hated the man, something that was caused by his jealousy and over protectiveness, but Claire was the only one who truly trusted him.

After Patricia, and now Kick, could they actually put their lives in anyone else's hands? Jill had to speak about the matter with someone; it was nagging her now that she had witnessed so many _trustworthy _people turn out to be traitors. "Do you still trust Kick?" Her voice was hesitant, although she could not even figure out why.

Had she asked that question yesterday, the redhead's answer would have been yes. Now though, Claire had to think before she genuinely answered, "I can't say." It was not what Jill wanted to hear, but Claire was her own person, and she could not expect her to feel the same. "I think she's loosing her mind Jill, she whispered, frowning at her own words. She was not trying to make excuses for Kick, but she could not brutally bash her character after trying to point out all of her good qualities so many times.

Jill's lips were held tight in a thin line; she wanted to bet sense into Claire, make her understand that this woman, Isabella, was Wesker incarnate. "You think she'll stop there, Claire?" The young woman raised an eyebrow. "Right now, Wesker is still her rock. She's been through hell, and he liberated her from that; if he dies…"

Sighing, Claire shifted in her seat. "You think she'll become Wesker?" Jill's silence conveyed her answer, and only because she was ashamed to say it aloud. "That's insane." Was it really?

More silence and Claire scoffed. "I doubt she'll pull an Alfred. Then she'll do what, turn Gianna into her?" Jill saw that Claire was not willing to consider this a possibility at all, and everyone knew that when Umbrella was involved, leave no possibility without consideration. Jill's disappointment at Claire's naivety showed, but Claire only sat there with an incredulous look on her face; she was serious. How could Claire be so stupid, especially when she had witnessed _Wesker's _insanity firsthand?

At one time, Jill had been so forgiving, so willing to give anyone a chance. Her father, however, stripped her of that "quality" by filling her young impressionable mind with the scenarios which forgiveness led to: betrayal. The most memorable excuse he gave her to become so cold Jesus, and though the argument should not have even lasted a second, his loud intimidating voice kept it going. Too bad the bastard threw his own advice to the wind; maybe he could have forced some sense through Claire's ears and down her goddamned throat.

Sighing to herself, Jill stood and walked around to Claire's side of the counter, though she stood at a good distance away from her. "You are so ready to trust everyone: Kick, Rush, who else Claire?" When Rush was mentioned, Jill noticed the redhead's cheeks turn the same color as her hair, and she gave an exasperated sigh. "You don't know the first thing about that man."

Jill was then taken aback at Claire's retort; she had apparently underestimated Claire's relationship with the newcomer. "_You _were surely eager as hell to call him captain.

What more could she say? Jaw clenched in anger, the older woman spun on her heel. She was giving up on Claire, and with her know-it-all-attitude, she deserved to see where exactly it would get her. It was not evil, not at all. She knew where her hard head would lead her: a bruised body and broken heart.

* * *

_It was hot, scorching. Where could this place be? An ocean of fire roared below and for the first time in a long time, an adrenaline rush hit her so quickly that everything happened at .01 second, and perspiration broke our in little beads all over her. And there he was, but at the same time, it was not him. He was desperate, a mess, and in need of assistance._

_He had reached his breaking point someway, somehow, and she could see it in those fire-red eyes. The question was: Should she save him? Something was so different, and it frightened her. He was killing himself this way, so should she end this pathetic attempt to prolong the madness? How do you kill the one you uphold over anyone else?_

_How can you kill a god? She would figure that out._

Leon still would not share a bed with her, fearing that she would decide to declare herself Wesker's ally and partner in crime. This was a sad fact, but there was an advantage to the privacy: thinking time. They had removed all of the guns from her room, not trusting her with even wire hangers now. They had missed one though, the one she kept hidden in the dress bag in her closet. Now she stared at it, turning it over in her hands before securing the silencer to its mouth.

_What are you doing? _a voice asked, sounding quite bored with her lunacy that caused silly, impulsive acts like this.

"Taking care of the problem. Before it's too late."

_Oh so you're finally offing yourself eh?! _The voice became excited at this, hoping she would at least entertain the idea.

Taking a deep breath she answered, "I'm not the problem." The house was quiet, and she was sure it would remain so. Until she delivered the bullet at least, something Wesker should have done already. But could she question her "master"? She would not; she would simply surpass him by completing this oh-so-simple task.

It had been on the very top of his list since the summer of '98: Kill Christopher Redfield.

She tipped down the hallway, hearing Rebecca snore lightly down the hall. She bit her bottom lip as she rounded the corner, gun lowered so its barrel faced down. Little did she know that she was expected, she was too lost in her thoughts to even realize this. A guttural growl was coming from her as she listened to the rustle of sheets, and she hoped that Claire would remain asleep. Despite her condition, she did not wish to harm the redhead, for some reason she felt like if she did, then Wesker would kill her.

After picking the lock, Kick waited a while, knowing that Jill would probably not be able to sleep at a time like this. When the deep breathing went undisturbed in its pattern, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. They lie together on the bed, embracing each other. Oh what a mess this would be, especially for poor Jill. Finger on the trigger, Kick sighed and saw Wesker's face flash before her, and he was smirking as though he were there right now.

"I'm sorry Chris," she whispered. Just as she added pressure to the trigger, she was jerked up off the ground, screaming in surprise that someone could even sneak up on her. "Let go of me! Let me do it!" she cried, thrashing about like she were a child throwing a temper tantrum. She saw Chris and Jill holding each other fearfully and heard Rush, Barry, and Saul calling Leon in to assist them in sedating the Tyrant. So they were all in on it together.

Another guttural growl left her as she tried to escape the hold of three of her comrades, and even Claire and Rebecca had awoken to her banshee-like cries. She began speaking in strange languages, not even realizing she was doing it, and in shock, Claire backed into the wall. She began to recognize the languages as Portuguese, Spanish, and Arabic. Those were her first languages, so there was nothing to be worried about, and yet Claire felt this was a scene from an exorcist movie. This was not their Kick, and Claire just wanted this insanity to stop.

Trying to hold Kick's arm, Rebecca ended up being thrown in a wall, giving in to unconsciousness. Calling her name, Jill jumped out of the bed to attend to her fallen comrade while Chris took Rebecca's place in securing the angry Tyrant. Leon whispered something to Kick that was inaudible to everyone else, and then he plunged a needle deep into her neck. With one final scream, she used her telekinesis to throw a nightstand into the group that had backed away from her after they thought she was subdued. The last thing both she and Wesker saw was the sight of her friends being hit and splinters of wood flying towards her.

* * *

No one could sleep after Kick's attack on Chris, so in an attempt to forget, -since they did not blame her because of her mental state- they left the house to stay in a more calm setting. Leon, however, stayed watching over Kick, and this decision held proof that he still loved her, no matter how out of control she was becoming. Rush had stayed as well, opting to keep Claire company since she did not wish to abandon her friends. If her loyalty resulted in minimal or no sleep then so be it, besides, she had been sleeping far too much. Keeping her distance from her comrades was important right now, so she sat on Rush's bed, playing him in a game of Uno.

Though it was quiet, Claire could not notice it, not with Rush flashing those brilliant white teeth at every glance she gave him. Once more, he grinned, this time causing her to giggle and ask what.

Clearing his throat, he replied, "Nothing."

"Ok then," she said.

Just as she lifted a card, he quickly added, "It's just that you're so beautiful." Setting the card back down, her smile faded, and an eyebrow rose suspiciously. She knew there was attraction between them, but there were boundaries, or at least there should have been within their relationship. Both his age and position kept them from progressing in their relationship because of personal morals and principles they each held. As if reading her mind he said, "Kick, Leon. Jill, Chris."

_You, him._

Claire scolded the voice for even proposing something like that.

_But you want it. He wants it. Even if it's just physical, which it is __**not**__, how long has it been?_

"I want strings," Rush breathed. "No quid pro quo or anything. I want it all." At his words mingled with the breathing and passion in his voice, Claire felt that he had ignited some sort of heat. "Let me take you."

_Don't melt._

Without her consent or argument to his proposal, the blond haired man leaned forward, unbuttoning his shirt. Once removed, Claire saw an incredible eight pack and muscular arms. Her breathing had quickened at his new smirk, and he began unbuckling his belt slowly. He was searching her eyes for a yes that would result in both of them gaining a release they so needed. Shaking now, he lifted the quilt quickly to throw the Uno cards from his path, leaving nothing between him and his subordinate now but clothes.

"Chris will be-"

"This is about us," he interrupted moving closer. Mouth slightly parted, she stood facing the door, her back to him. Soundlessly, he stood, placing hot hands on her shoulders, making her gasp. When his lips met her neck, she moaned, tensing at the same time. She wanted their bodies touching, mouths pressed together, wanting to hold each other tighter but disappointed and angered that it was an impossibility.

"Rush," she murmured, feeling one of his hands massaging her breast through her shirt. He had ceased speaking, had long ago decided that words would prove to be pointless, so he had to show her what his actions could cause. Though she enjoyed the attention, she wanted to pull away, to stop him before she gave in completely. Her display of resistance was pitiful; she shakily pulled at his hands, trying to "remove" them from her body. This small display of rejection did not cripple his hope though, he instead turned her around to face him, and she gasped at the feel of the growing bulge in his pants.

Knowing that she was close to cracking, he whispered, "Touch it."

_Why do they __**always**__ say that?!_

Ignoring the voice, even though it spoke the truth, she realized that she had no reason not to. "What do you want from me?" she breathed. At her question, Rush smiled, mainly because all men knew that that question would be asked, and they all knew what to say.

Smirking, he lowered his mouth to her ear, nibbling on her earlobe before answering, "Whatever you want, I want." He had her; the look in her eyes when he pulled back was proof that she was now his. Time sped up and they were now on the bed, pulling at each other's remaining clothes. For now, Claire forgot Kick, Leon, and even Wesker. Jill and her warnings were now nothing more than a distant memory.

* * *

No doubt, things were tense with the AUA members. He had witnessed Kick's display of loyalty, insanity, and anger through the unreliable, yet fortunate malfunctions of the Umbrella satellite. The chip implanted in the Tyrant's head did prove useful, but the fact it was so damaged to the point where he could not use it to pinpoint her exact location was an unfavorable catch. Wesker now wished that he had given Claire the same gift. If only he could unscramble the transmission…

I could have more fun, he though with a smirk. Their AUA house was a joke, a coed party house with sex-driven Neanderthals who had even managed to pull a superior being such as Kick into the web of deceit. Maybe Patricia's exit was a good thing, she took with her, complications from the equation. Her actions had pushed Kick into Leon's arms, and away from Wesker.

Sometimes he thought Gianna was the most obedient of the Abolhassan twins, but lately, Isabella had begun showing promise. Then again, insanity and an overzealous attitude got you in William Birkin's situation. He knew though, that Leon's insatiable appetite for her body kept her busy, but Wesker also knew how any man she loved could change the name she cried and the tune in which she sung it. Of course, he would never say this to Isabella's face, not wanting a fight to come out of it. She had already felt terrible about her past occupations: prostitute, stripper.

Thinking about her past somehow brought him to Claire once more. Though they were polar opposites, they had become friends, and Claire was growing increasingly protective of the youngest Abolhassan twin. She was not at all as judgmental as Wesker expected, but should he have tried predicting her reaction when even Christopher had surprised him? When so much talent existed, how could he afford to underestimate so many? If Claire would wise up, then he could have a trio of deadly women, all passionate about their beliefs, and all of them beautiful masterminds.

Gianna, Isabella, and Claire. Put together, the names alone sounded promising. With a team like that, Ada would no longer be of use. He could put them all in different companies, sabotaging them at every turn, and his twins were very good liars, while Claire was a pretty package to present the lies. Accomplishing this, however, would take time.

He would have to coax Claire into believing that he was right, that what he wanted was simply what they all strove for. A setback: she had met his old colleague. Still, he had one more card up his sleeve: Roger.

* * *

She was not speaking at all, then again, what could she say after her failed assassination? Leon sighed and stopped pretending to be reading the book in his hand. Kick, Isabella -whoever the hell she was, lie in their bed, curled up in a ball as she stared at Leon's knee. She only changed her point of interest every thirty minutes or so, and it was an understatement to say that her behavior worried him. Now he watched her change position and she began pulling at her t-shirt, groaning in pain.

Rubbing his eyes, Leon asked, "You want something?" Lips pursed, she shook her head and stopped groaning. Then she began removing her clothes, leaving her in her black underwear, and though it was a strange thing, he could not object. What harm could her being half-naked do? He wondered how Claire and Rush were doing, but remembered that he could not leave Kick, not for a second.

She was becoming restless, pulling her hair as though she were in pain. "Get it out," she muttered, a tear escaping one red eye.

At her plea, Leon looked up at her, and she turned to face him, staring into his gray eyes. "Get what out?" he whispered. "It" could have been anything, Wesker's treachery knew no boundaries, and so who knew what "It" was capable of?

"Es adentro, en mi cabeza," she whispered, and her eyes told him that someone was listening. A wave of paranoia washed over Leon and he demanded to know if Wesker was watching them. Now sobbing, she shook her head. "Wesker's the least of our worries." Baby," he held her face in his hands, forcing her to sit up, "Who's watching us baby? I won't tell them you told me."

"Ah!" At first, he thought he was hurting her with his grip, but she continued screaming even after he let go. She was writhing in pain, kicking the sheets back as she held her head. "Alice!"

"Claire! Rush!" He stood from his seat to run to the door. They were not far, and when he saw them round the corner, her was relieved. Now, Kick was shouting names that he doubted she knew that she knew. There was one in particular that she spoke with venom: Alice.

"Oh my God," Claire breathed. "She's remembering." Whether this was good or bad, who knew? What she did know was that last time Kick began remembering, she became a creature far worse than Wesker himself. She had become Umbrella's perfect weapon of destruction, and she was just as her master had once described her.

She was Pandora's Box, and now there was no stopping what would be released.

A/N: That could have been better, but I have been busy and am trying to give what I can. Please review and maybe I'll feel better : )


	21. Break Me

A/N: OMG SCHOOL IS OUT! I had been waiting four frickin' years!

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, Saul, Rush, Patricia, Bartleby, Gianna and my other characters are mine too.

The memory was a bitter one, one that had come all of the sudden from somewhere in the back of her head. Though it was something no one should remember she saw it all again, relived the pain, and realized that she was destined to be Wesker's monster. She'd killed before, hell, when you're working the streets you are bound to be attacked right. However, she never wanted to take the life of an innocent, a true innocent that was completely devoid of sin. The life of a child.

He was so beautiful, and though he did not belong to her she felt a connection with him, the amazing connection of blood. In essence, he was hers, and because of that fact she should have been watching out for him.

Wesker had brought him to her, staring upon the child and looking -for the first time since she had met him- human. Perhaps he was merely trying to make him comfortable, well; she was only assuming that he knew the look in her eyes meant that her decision was the one that would cause the most pain. He was full, had been fed for the first time in his life, not expecting anything at all to come next, but possibly hoping. Everything wanted life; everything had a way of letting their desire to live become know. His way was crying, but maybe he would not cry if she explained it to him, and he miraculously understood.

Now she felt even worse, he was indeed a miracle, and it was hard to believe that the poisonous vessel he had been residing in had not rejected him. Somehow his mother's body had managed to produce this perfect little being with all extremities intact. He was normal. Better than that even, he was so normal that it frightened the pessimistic aunt who now looked upon the infant in fear.

"Wesker," she tried to say, but it came out sounding like a trembling gasp; her fear had spiked at the sight.

Hearing the apprehension in her voice, he looked into her almost black eyes to see it, but she could not see his current emotion; his blue eyes were forever hidden by those shades. He wore no gloves while handling the newborn, something that she found odd, because he was only without those when they were alone.

"Gianna," he began, staring back down at the sleeping baby, "is your twin." When people spoke those words, she knew that a comparison was about to be made, and the opinions had become so repetitive that she knew -though she vehemently rejected them- that were now fact. "She is you, but she is your worst half. And innocent as he may be, he was a product of your dark side."

He laid the baby in the incubator in the room to his right and walked back into the hall where the infant's aunt sat, holding her head in her hands as she pressed herself into the wall with the prayer to disappear. With a sigh, he made his way to her, tensing at the sight of the rosary beads that she recently had drawn into her ankle. At first, he thought of it as a scar of a foolish decision, but now he saw it as a true sign. It was her sign of constant penance. He wanted to burn it off her when he thought of the insanity it would drive her to, the belief that she needed it to escape hell.

She knew he would pull her up, so rather than be treated as weak as she was on the inside, she stood in an attempt to display that she was strong enough physically to overcome her early-obtained guilt.

"Your decision?" he demanded, staring her down. Rather than say it aloud, she merely looked into his eyes, and her sadness conveyed it all. When he saw the first tear run down her cheek, he pulled her into his embrace with a force that knocked the wind out of her. "Isabella," he muttered into her hair. "If he is away too long she will come."

Gianna's concern for child startled her twin, and it was apparent that it shook Wesker as well; to love someone so much was deadly. Through the glass, she saw him stretch in his sleep, and she smiled as she noticed the head of black hair. The smile was -of course- sad, and she brought her attention back to Wesker instead. She opened her mouth to say something, but he caught her mouth with his own.

"Oh," she moaned. Her mind had been taken away from the child and she felt herself give in to him as her mind reeled with the possibilities the night could bring. With those thoughts there suddenly came the memory of her sister with a round belly, waddling around their cabin. She broke the kiss, and stared up at the blond man. "We haven't…"

For some reason he was forcing himself to remain calm, to appear his usual stoic self, and when Wesker was forcing it she knew that he was trying to hide something. Sure Gianna's child had been a slip up, Wesker had put her on birth control, but she was without it. By now, shouldn't there have been a little child of her own lying somewhere?

Now, she was backing away from him, slowly shaking her head at the thought, but she could not shake away the truth. "No," she pleaded. Tears welled up in her eyes when he said nothing, and now she understood their lack of precaution.

"This should be a happy moment for you. You will never be put in such a predicament as this again." That was his defense.

Giving a bitter laugh she said, "That's a grim way of looking at it. Why didn't you tell-"

They had never spoken of it because they had never planned it. Neither of them wished for something like this to happen, not ever. Therefore, Wesker had not deceived her because of the fact that his Isabella never showed an interest in becoming a mother. Not only that, but he never saw himself being a father. Even if it was by her.

Falling back to her spot against the wall, she asked softly, "How long have you known?" Somehow she felt the world shifting beneath her, everything was in constant motion and only now had she been able to tell. Atoms, microorganisms, and so much more became visible. For so long she had been blind to so many things just because she could not see them. Now that she knew, she could not pretend that this too was unreal.

Folding his arms, he looked into the room with the incubator and she could tell that he was thinking.

"That long ago?" she asked, trying to sound playful, but failing miserably.

"I questioned it a few months before Gianna's pregnancy. When I found out that she was with child I looked into it."

Blinking back more tears, she stared down at her sandaled feet. She took in a shuddering breath and looked back at Wesker, only to look away as soon as she saw that he was once more watching her. Her mouth opened, but nothing would ever come out, so she instead placed a hand to her stomach and a sob somehow managed to escape her. She did not know where that emotion came from, but from the sound of it, it was from her soul. That was the deepest that any emotion could come from, but after all she'd done was she sure that she even had a soul?

As she continued to cry Wesker began his explanation, not trying hard at all to drown out her pain with words. "It was the drugs, and without knowing it you may have had an STD, but I highly doubt that since everything else about you is normal. Your infertility was not by natural causes Isabella, but because of your poor choices."

He would not sugarcoat it, and that was all right because she knew that everything she was hearing was her fault.

"You may partially blame your sister," he said, reading her mind. He knew her well enough that he knew she liked to take on burdens that were to be shared with others. "You were trying to keep up with her, love. I believe anyone who was in your shoes would have been in your same situation, making the same choices to get through."

Why was he not calling her weak? That would have been the very Albert Wesker thing to do. Should she have wanted comfort when she had destroyed her own chances of delivering a baby into the world?

"Isabella, now you must go through with your decision, unless you see him as your salvation."

"Giovanni."

"What?"

"His name is Giovanni." She looked up at him, wishing he would just take her away back to his cabin. What was the point though; sex only reminded her of how she would never have her own Giovanni.

Wordlessly, she got to her feet and walked into the nursery, not at all looking at her lover. Instead of watching her, he stared down the hall. When she reached her nephew, she gave a sad smile. Feeling the need to do so, she placed her hand on his abdomen and rubbed it with her thumb.

"Hey Giovanni. I'm your aunt Isabella and… I came to help you. What I'm doing, I'm very sorry." She had planned to say so much more, but she could not try to justify her plan to him. Rather than drag it out, she placed her hand over his mouth and nose, and his eyes never opened as though he was accepting it.

_It's over._

* * *

"I want to go to São Paulo," Kick said again, but no one thought that this was a good idea. Still, no one trusted her; this could have been some kind of trap set up by Wesker who was apparently still very much in control of her and her actions. "I swear this is for me. You can let me go alone if you don't trust me." They wanted her to get help, but going off with her to a foreign land was a dangerous thing to do when they could not trust her.

Then again, someone had to keep an eye on her. Rather than listen to her strange and sudden request, Claire left the room to sit with Rush in the den. He had been quiet through the whole thing; even though he was the captain he knew that he had not established enough of a familial bond with them all. This was a decision that only they could make based on their love for her.

"Wesker has her," Claire breathed, staring at the carpet. She and Rush had not touched since they had slept together, and they had barely spoken except when they had to work together to calm Kick down.

__

Alice, Omar, Nadia, Gianna, and Giovanni.

She knew who Gianna was, but the other four were names that were unknown to her, but the way that she spoke them it was apparent that those people held some significance in her life. Especially Alice and Giovanni. Were they siblings, cousins?

"He'll never have her." At Rush's words, Claire looked into his eyes, feeling a warmth that was associated with… love. Or maybe she wanted it to be that serious; with all that was going on right now, everyone needed some kind of assurance. Groaning in exhaustion, she laid her head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent.

Once more looking into his eyes, she said, "I think we all just need some ex or something." They laughed at her joke, but on some level she was serious. The fighting, the drama, the pure hatred, it was all maddening. Right now they all just needed some kind of love, whether it was real or not.

Their smiles had disappeared, and their faces grew closer. When their lips met, Claire instantly threw her arms around him, lying back on the couch and pulling him onto her. They kissed for what felt like forever, pulling at each other's bodies, demanding more and more.

* * *

Chris was not leaning toward her side at all, and this hurt Jill when she saw that a creation of their worst enemy was winning everyone over. No one had agreed but they certainly were entertaining Kick's idea. Jill had just rounded the corner, but before she could get over the threshold she looked up to see Claire and Rush lying on the couch. Their bodies were moving together, and even though they appeared to be fully clothed, she could tell that the redhead's pants had been slightly pulled down.

She could only stare at them, eyes turning red with rage. Rush's body began shaking and he drowned out Claire's moan by covering her mouth with his. Jill quickly and quietly retreated into the hallway, saddened at Claire's poor choices. Everything was falling apart for AUA, and this was only the start. How much worse could things become for them?

_Kick made her decision, so I have to make mine._

A/N: I apologize for the shortness of this chapter but I have to go to my cousin's bridal shower soon and I needed to do something because I realized how long it has been since I have updated. But please review, reviews make me happier than when I heard my name being called at grad… Well, that was priceless, but reviews come pretty close!!!! So review!

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	22. Family

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, Saul, Rush, Patricia, Bartleby, Gianna and my other characters are mine too.

"I don't want you to go." Jill had said that for about the tenth time that day, and Chris' head was beginning to hurt. He could not take another argument with that woman; not only was it hurting her but it was hurting him to so blatantly choose another woman over her. When she brought that up, he could only say that Jill was the love of his life, while Kick and Claire were family.

Zipping up his travel bag, he exhaled loudly, hoping that she would just drop it. He knew Jill though. "I have to. I can't leave Leon alone with her."

Giving a sarcastic laugh, Jill stood up from their bed. "Of course. You're right. You can't 'leave her alone.'" With her sarcastically unsettling words, she left the room, and with her left the cloud of jealousy that had been weighing down the air.

"One down," he muttered before leaving to check on Claire. He needed her to understand his reasoning as well, and hopefully she could be more forgiving than his partner. Ha, she was his partner in everything it seemed, yet they could not even agree on whether or not to pull the toilet paper over or under.

Claire was not in her room, so he decided to instead check on Kick, who was just now finishing packing. Leon had run out to get something for the trip, undoubtedly something that would annoy the hell out of their fellow passengers on the plane. Her door was open, and he heard Claire speaking to her softly, almost sisterly as though she had forgiven her. The smile she gave Chris when she exited the room was proof that he did not need to speak with her at all; she would be all right. Somehow, even after being kidnapped by Wesker, his little sister was managing to get stronger and a little more adventurous.

Kick sat expectantly on the foot of her bed, no smile present on her face, but Chris knew that she was happier than she had been a few days ago. However, she did look more exhausted than before. He shut the door behind him, locking it before standing over her, hands on his hips.

A smile crept across his lips and he asked, "Are you okay? You're supposed to be _kinda _happy."

She nodded and smiled back. "Just not feeling too hot." He squatted down and placed a hand on her forehead, but quickly remembered that since she was practically dead that it would not help him solve her problem. "It's my stomach anyway," she said with a giggle.

A mischievous smirk in place, he asked, "Not a little Leon is it?" He laughed, but she did not, causing his smile to disappear and a look of worry to take its place. "What is it? You're not? Are you?"

Running her hands through his hair and manipulating it to stick up in spikes, she gave a sigh. "I can't have children."

Now Chris felt like an idiot, and he mentally kicked himself for saying something like that. "I'm so sorry."

"It's o-"

"It was dumb of me to-"

"It's my fault." At her words, he looked into her eyes, feeling her hand drop to his cheek as she bit her lip. "Wesker said I'm infertile because of all the drugs. There are other parts of that story you need to know, but I can't tell you right now. Jill hates me enough."

It was probably smart that she keep everything she knew to herself for a while; people had a hard enough time dealing with her trying to kill him in his sleep. Dropping the subject was easy, but now he had nothing to focus on except her in the present moment. She was beautiful, exotic, and right now, she looked like she needed to hear that from a man. Even though she was in sweat pants and a tank, her allure was not going to fail her by not doing her justice. He had been around her so long that the red eyes had become almost natural looking to him.

Chris began noticing how attractive she was, and he was not seeing her in the way a family member saw her. He looked at her in the way a passerby would, and he thought things that he had never thought before. At first, he could not concentrate on her beauty because she was a BOW, then it was because she was like family, but now he wanted to say something straight from the top of his head. It could not be something he would say to Claire after she got dumped, but something that would make her smile with the knowledge that he was speaking for all men outside of her bloodline or adoptive family.

Barely thinking about it, he breathed, "You're so…" He stopped himself before he went too far. "Beautiful." At the tone of his voice, Kick's stare changed from being sad to pensive. Her hand dropped from his face, not touching any part of his body but instead returning to her lap.

Sensing the change of the mood, he grabbed her hands, finding them to be much softer than any other woman's were. He could tell that she was baffled at his behavior, so before she could question him, he pulled her up along with him and held her in a tight embrace. He felt her heart beat occasionally, and it was a bit faster than he remembered it beating in the past. Chin atop her head, he inhaled the scent of her hair, finding it to be strangely soothing. His eyes drifted closed as they embraced, but a few seconds later, he slightly opened them to find that she had done the same thing. Her breathing was deep and slow, like she had been put to sleep by being held by him, by inhaling his scent.

He began to feel peaceful and lazy, and his arms fell lower around her tiny body. Now one of his hands rested on the small of her back, and without realizing it, he was pulling her closer. At the feel of pressure on her lower back, she let out a small gasp, making him worry that he had accidentally wound up rubbing a spot, so he began to pull away. Just when he did, she gasped again, but when he looked down at her face, he saw that it was one of pain.

"Kick what's wrong?" He helped her as she tried to gently sit on her bed, but she began holding her abdomen in pain. Allowing her to curl up in a little ball, he listened to her shallow breaths and sat down next to her.

Looking tired once more, she gazed into his eyes pleadingly, but it seemed that the pain was rendering her voiceless. "Ah!" she groaned, hissing in pain, but now she had let go of her stomach and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. "I'm ok," she said, rolling onto her back. "It's not as bad as I made it look. It just surprised me."

He let out a sigh of relief and silently thanked God that she was beginning to feel better. If she had gotten sick, he would not have known what to do; she was not human so when it came to identifying problems he would have had a hard time. He helped her sit up and the door opened, Leon looking at them wide-eyed while he clutched two, large paper bags.

"Chris?"

Chris licked his lips and looked into Kick's eyes, where he could see that she thought the situation was humorous. "She uh…"

With a smile, she turned to her boyfriend, her long hair whipping past Chris' face and he once more inhaled her scent. "I had a moment. He was helping me, but I'm ok now. You said you wanted to talk?"

That was his cue to leave, so Chris stiffly got to his feet, being eyed by Leon as he walked around him. When he closed the door, he wanted to go back in, but Rebecca had needed to talk to him. From the note he received last night, it looked urgent.

* * *

So much had transpired in so little time that Wesker was actually beginning to believe that he would not have to do much to get to Chris or the any of the others. The chip's signal had been unscrambled for a split second, but in that minuscule window of time, he caught the coordinates that popped up on the screen. Now he was only focused on getting back his Isabella. Isabella was definitely becoming a problem though; she once more displayed unsavory behavior. Now he was beginning to believe that perhaps Claire was a bad influence on her.

_Claire._

So Rush had managed to get to her did he? A shame since he thought that she was so much stronger than that. She was giving in to sinful pleasures to block out what had happened during her kidnapping no doubt, but that was fine with him. He would soon remind her of the world she had been trying to escape from, even in her dreams. Why were the Redfields becoming so… different?

Chris' display of affection toward Isabella had unnerved him, and now he wanted her out of there more than anything. What was he trying to pull back there? Being a man, -though an unusual one- he knew what other men were thinking, and Chris' appraisal was not at all appreciated by him. Then again, maybe he was just misreading everything; Chris would never -in his own opinion- stoop so low as to become infatuated with one of Umbrella's monsters.

_I'm seeing things that are not there._So was he feeling jealousy that so many people got to be around her, see her laugh, and cry? Before he could answer that the door behind him opened, and Gianna entered with Bartleby on her heels.

Spinning around in his chair, he looked the pair up and down before asking. "How is your hand?"

Still angry at the mere memory, Bartleby answered, "All better. Can't believe I was out of commission for so long." Wesker saw Gianna give him a worried look, and he knew that she was remembering the days when they were both trainees who had grown fond of each other. Those memories may have been sweet for her, but Wesker had almost killed the man who had -over time- become very helpful to him and his cause.

Folding her arms over her chest, Gianna cleared her throat, indicating that she was there for business and not small talk. "I got your message. Now what do you mean she remembered?"

Resting his hands on the arms of the chair, he smirked at her. "Exactly what I said Miss _Pernicci_."

"So she…" She trailed off, trying to figure out whether or not this was good or bad.

Before she began displaying sentimental emotions, Wesker spoke. "I want you and Bartleby to go retrieve her."

At his command the brunet began laughing hysterically, slapping his knee. "You want us to- haha! Do you remember last time?!" His laughter continued, and if this had been anyone else, Wesker would have probably killed him for such a display of mockery. Rather than frown, he smiled, surprising Gianna, but not her partner.

"I do recall, but I also have faith in the two of you. It has been an emotional roller coaster in that house, so no one will see it coming."

_Not even Isabella._

* * *

They had gone down to the basement, away from everyone else in the house; they needed to discuss this in private. Rebecca had told Chris to sit down, as if breaking bad news to him, but she only told him to do so because she knew that understanding this was going to be difficult. It would upset him not because something had gone wrong, but because she had not received the desired results.

"Leon's blood sample keeps changing at a very slow rate. There's nothing wrong with him though, he's only getting small amounts of the virus, small enough to be continually killed off."

Brow furrowed, Chris asked, "How is that possible?"

Rebecca leaned against the desk behind her and ran her hands through her short hair. "We don't know." At that, he rubbed his eyes in annoyance, he had been anticipating those results but now it seemed there were no results at all. "We think it's because Kick wasn't meant to infect people. Ever noticed her unfinished 'meals'? They never come back Chris."

He sat back in his seat, thinking about every person bitten or scratched by his comrade, and he realized that they had never turned. "So what was she made for?"

"Claire said her twin sister, Gianna, is a Tyrant as well right?" He nodded for her to continue. "Kick's stronger than her, but she has a flaw: her eyes. Gianna is weaker and looks completely normal. So my theory is that Kick was a prototype or a guinea pig-"

"No. She's the leader." Chris stared down at the floor, looking as though he had gotten news of a death. "Claire said they had a whole room of girls meant to be made like Kick, but they weren't the same, they were completely inhuman. Kick gets that way but she always comes back to us. What if Gianna and Kick aren't good enough together?

"What if Wesker's trying to build an army?"

"Well, first of all that's impossible Chris. I looked over Umbrella's notes remember? Chances of making a Tyrant: One in one thousand. If that many girls are needed people will notice. Plus, it's impossible to deal with the hormones of a female, so they thought it was better to deal with violence and testosterone," she added, rolling her eyes.

"What if he's trying to make it so that it binds with a person's DNA Rebecca?"

"Still, it's a lotta work." She only shook her head and stared at him. "You really care about her don't you?"

Rubbing his hands together in thought, he answered, "Of course. You have no idea."

"I'm leaving Chris." At her news his head snapped up, his mouth agape in shock. "You guys don't need me here."

He stood, but for what? There was nothing he could say or do to change her mind. She had gotten a lead on Billy Coen, and she was desperate now to find the man that had saved her life so that she could return the favor. It was not a scenario of lost love to her, but one in which her life had been saved while his was now in danger. If the authorities got a hold of him, or Umbrella…

That was sure enough a shudder-worthy thought.

Before speaking, Chris gave a sigh; there was nothing else to do at the time. "We'll always need you Rebecca." Rather than argue, she walked over to him, embracing him. Hesitantly, he returned the hug, and he began to realize that he was tearing up. So much was going on, and he was starting to doubt that he could handle it.

* * *

Difficult as it was, Claire managed to let Chris go to Sã o Paulo with Kick. Her memories had returned, causing every wound to be fresh as though she had just received them. She had a family somewhere, and Chris and Leon had volunteered to escort her. No trap awaited them; Alice probably would not care enough to acknowledge her long-lost daughter's presence. Speaking to the natives felt natural, the children running and playing was expected, but what caught her off guard was how at home she felt when a few days ago she could not see her mother's face in her memory.

Surprisingly, -or not- many people knew Alice Abolhassan, and the man giving directions to her new home even recognized the youngest of her twins. Her first set at least.

"You are Isabella!" the plump man cried.

"That's me," she said, smiling nervously.

"When you went away to the states to school, your mother was so proud. She uh, bragged to everyone." She wanted to correct him, tell him that Alice Abolhassan was a lying whore, but Leon's hand on the small of her back reminded her that they had not come to pick a fight. "And where is Gianna?"

Painting back on a fake smile, she answered. "She could not make it. She is working a lot lately señ or."

"Tell her I said hello, ok?" She nodded, kissing his cheeks before she left. As they walked back to the car, Leon pulled her close, whispering soothing words, but her mood would once more spike.

"¡ Oi, Isabella! That you?!" The English accent caught her attention, and she watched a very blond, very tall man jogging toward her. "Where in God's name you been?" Leon's grip tightened on her, but the blond did not take his eyes off Kick. "I know it's bright, but what's with the shades?"

While she fished her jumble of a mind for names, she decided to try to answer one question. "'Been away too long I guess."

"You guess? Izzy, it's been seven years and you just bailed on me." When Leon cleared his throat, he suddenly noticed the two brunets on either side of her, and he grinned. "Oh, I'm Hunter Graham." He extended a hand to both of them, getting a firm shake from Chris, while Leon's was stiff and forced. Still, he seemed more preoccupied with his newest finding about Kick: she was half-naked.

Leon grimaced at Hunter as he scanned Kick's thighs and legs. Feeling the tension, Chris introduced himself first.

"I'm Chris Redfield and this is-"

"Leon Scott Kennedy: Kick's boyfriend." Caught in the middle of a testosterone storm, Kick sighed.

"Kick?" Hunter asked, laughing.

"Long story," she offered, and he gave her the look that she remembered now. It said, "We're best friends, I have forever for you."

"You disappeared," he said sounding hurt. Now she ignored Leon's tight grip, and focused on Hunter's forest-green eyes, remembering how close she had been to whom her mother referred to as, "The Little White Boy." Feeling a pang of guilt, she pulled away from Leon and embraced her childhood friend. Now she listened to his heartbeat quicken, and then she knew that he felt they had unfinished business. "And I'm so sorry about Omar and Nadia."

At hearing those names, she pulled back, "Wait what about them?" She was frantic now, worried about her younger siblings whom she had to play mother to, since her mother thought her duty was simply to lie on her back.

"You-you haven't heard?" Of course, he was surprised, no one knew how Alice really was, so there was no telling what happened to Nadia and Omar. "Your mother hasn't told you?"

"I haven't talked to that bitch in four years, now tell me what happened?!"

Biting his bottom lip, he kicked up some dirt and ruffled his hair. So many nervous movements at once meant nothing good was to be said. "Mum's been asking about you. Da's been missing, haven't seen him since we were sixteen. Everything Umbrella right?"

Once more, she became afraid, was he in danger now? Umbrella kept tabs on the whole family, and since he knew the Abolhassan twins…

"Just come see Mum for a bit. Maybe if she sees you've come back, she'll believe more in Da. She needs the faith Izzy." Seeing him so down killed her, and so she gave Leon and Chris a pleading look that she be allowed to go with him.

"Yeah," Leon agreed, surprising her. "We'll do a little souvenir shopping." Before letting her go, he gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, and another on her forehead. "Be careful baby, I just got you back."

"I'll call you," she whispered back. Despite the trust she had for Hunter, she knew she had to be on her toes. One thing was for sure: she would tell him _everything_.

* * *

The years had been hell on Lydia Graham. Only in her forties, she was already stocking her medicine cabinet with blonde dye. Her skin had become dry, and no smile lines existed, for she had little to smile about. The story of Gianna's recent visit, however, brought her face to life. Apparently, Isabella's "Evil Twin" had been snooping around by making claims that her sister had been missing for a whole year, and "Izzy's" return to Sã o Paulo had made Lydia's year complete. Her excuse to the woman who had been more of a mother to her than her own was the partial truth: Gianna had been a drug addict, and in order to save herself she had no choice but to part with her self-destructive other half.

She had been surprised to hear this, and commented that Gianna had looked quite sober, to which Kick replied, "Our mentor took his job seriously." But she was more interested in her other two siblings whereabouts, so to keep Lydia's good mood up, Hunter took Kick to his room and shut the door to inform her further. First, however, he wanted to know why his best friend left without a word.

She sat down next to him on his bed, turning to face him, shades still in place. "Alice sent Gianna and me away. The Mexican, _Hector_… He was our pimp-"

"No, no," he whispered, putting his face in his hands. Even though the truth was killing him, he could not stop listening. What kind of friend would he be?

"Gianna and I- we ran and made it across the border. Made it to Las Vegas and kept hooking, made quite the impression on the rich and famous. So they made an impression on us: coke, heroine, morphine. Fucked ourselves up pretty good."

"At thirteen?" he whispered.

Placing a hand on his, she answered, "We only lived that way for three years." Then she went on about a savior who took them to Umbrella, but at the name "Wesker," Hunter tensed.

"Umbrella… they never rubbed me the right way. Not since I was sent to that prison of theirs." Hunter rubbed the tattoo of a cross on his upper arm, for prison art, it was a beautiful piece of work. Franklin Graham, Hunter's father had worked for Umbrella, and then his son experienced their malice firsthand. Kick learned that he was sent there for starting a riot against an Umbrella office because of an official who knew his father, but would not divulge his location. "They did weird things, took blood tests, piss and semen samples…"

At the memory of "protocol," he grimaced. "After they got my results back, they just… let me go." He was staring at the carpet as though he were looking at a jigsaw puzzle, trying to find where he had gone wrong." I mean we heard things, all of us did, and some of the men would be taken away after they got their tests back. Something about them being compatible."

His confused look became a grimace. "Then, just as I was released, Omar was thrown in."

"What?!" No, no, no. This could not be true, it just could not be.

"Izzy…" He sat up straight and turned to look at her, still not able to see past her shades. "Omar, he did something pretty bad. Nadia… she was in a hotel room, I guess Alice was pimping her out to these guys and… They raped her and they... They killed her."

Her world fell apart at those words, like someone swinging a bat into a mirror. Like someone had grabbed her by the heart and constricted its blood flow. "Nadia," she whispered, choking back a sob. She wanted to deny it, stop the story, but she knew that she needed to hear this from someone she loved, not her mother.

"Omar was around, and he found her. The men were still there and he… he shot them in their kneecaps and… I guess slit their throats, it was bad from what I heard. Housekeeper found him holding Nadia, sobbing. He's still there, at the prison. Actually they try and call it a Reform Center for the Mentally Disturbed."

Slowly, she fell onto him, getting a hug. Nadia was dead, dead at fourteen. All she could think was, "It should have been me."

After five minutes of embracing, Hunter finally spoke, stroking Kick's black hair. "I know Umbrella did something to you and Gianna. What was it?" Slowly, they let each other go, but Kick did not look up. She slid off her sunglasses and tossed them to the floor, eyes still on her thigh. Hunter placed a hand under her chin, and tilted her head up, revealing her secret: blazing red eyes.

"Wesker didn't do it, but who knows what he'll do to Omar. We actually have the same father, so it's the same genetic makeup. I don't know what I am, but I will find out. First, I'm getting Omar out of RCMD."

"I want in. You're part of some organization aren't you?"

"AUA."

She was proud of gaining a new member for the cause, but she had another matter to tend to before Omar: Alice Abolhassan.

* * *

The fancy ring of the doorbell was a slap to her face, the swing set in the oversized backyard: a punch to the nose. The maid who answered the door: now it was on. "I'm looking for Alice Abolhassan," Kick seethed, Leon stroking her arm.

"¿ Su nombre? " the maid politely asked, but Kick knew that she was afraid of the red eyes staring her down.

"Isabella Abolhassan-Ramirez." In the back, she heard a child fussing and immediately knew she had the right home. The prospect of more siblings disgusted her rather than excited her, but she threw on a smile anyhow.

"¿ Ingrid, quien esta?"

Before Ingrid could respond, Kick yelled, "¡ Es tu hija! La hija de Angel!" Something broke and her smirk widened across her mouth as she wondered what kind of explanations her mother had to offer.

They had been granted access and waited downstairs in the den while Alice prepped for the long conversation that she knew awaited her. A small girl, with a lighter skin tone than Kick sat on the couch opposite of her and her teammates, staring at her in wonder.

Wishing to be courteous to her younger half-sibling, Kick cleared her throat and said "Hola. ¿ Hablas españ ol o inglés? ¿ Portugués?"

"Si, si, y si." She giggled as Kick nervously smiled, throwing glances at a set of twins in a playpen next to her. "You can pick them up if you like. That's Ben and Ken. I'm Amy."

"Hi, Amy. I'm Kick, or Isabella, whichever you prefer." The child spoke perfect English, so she assumed that her father was an American, a tycoon no doubt who came from a family who was built on money, corporations, and more money.

"Kick sounds cooler," she said, grinning. "Who are they?"

"My friend, Chris Redfield, and my boyfriend, "Leon Kennedy." Needing support for something so easy as this, Kick grabbed Leon's hand, getting a reassuring squeeze. "So Amy, how old are you?"

"Six. You?"

"Twenty. One more year and I would have met you." She stopped at that thought, not wanting the mood to turn sour. Nothing was this girl's fault, and so she had no reason to resent her, not simply because she lived a cushy life.

"You're prettier than Gianna." She had heard that so many times, but she hated it when everyone thought that way; they were practically the same person. A soul split in two. The comment bothered her more than the fact that she had met Gianna though. Her big sister was sneaky, and Kick knew that she had probably contacted every person from their past.

"Amy?" Their mother sweetly called, and the girl ran upstairs to meet her. She did not return, but that did not bother Kick or her company; it would be easier this way. "Forgive me for the wait." Alice seated herself on the couch that Amy had previously occupied, smoothing her dress over her knees.

Her accent was completely gone.

Kick did not wish for her comrades to hate this woman because she did, she wanted their opinions to remain untainted by her own until they left. "Do Ben and Ken have the same father?" Yes, it was mean, but the Tyrant could not find love for that woman anywhere in her heart.

"Yes. Amy's father died a few years ago." It sickened her how she looked so clean-cut and professional, but she only cleared her throat. "I guess you heard about-"

"Don't you say their names. Ever," she interrupted, feeling Leon's grip tighten on her hand.

Looking up at the ceiling, the Arab woman exhaled. "Thanks Hunter," she muttered in annoyance. "I supposed you heard that Gianna's looking for you."

"We spent our quality time together not too long ago." There was something that Alice lacked in her eyes: fear of her daughter's red irises. "Mama, strange how you've failed to mention my eyes. It's like, you knew they'd be this way. Or maybe you're not surprised because you've seen some eyes similar to my own?"

Chris and Leon frowned at each other, but it became all too clear what she was getting at. Alice had met Wesker. Now that they knew she had met him and was keeping secrets for him, Chris knew that she could be labeled as an enemy.

Kick sighed to herself and stared into her mother's chocolate colored eyes. She was still beautiful as ever, but she was also still the same conniving bitch that she had always been. This time though, things would end differently: she would not let the now dead love for her mother be resurrected and once more get in her way of the truth.

* * *

Claire had been searching the house up and down for Rush for quite some time now. He had a strange knack for disappearing, but showed up again just as easily. "Rush?" she called once more, and Saul stuck his head out of his room.

"Hey Claire, what's goin' on?" He stepped out into the hallway, closing his door.

Freeing her hair from its ponytail holder, she leaned against the wall behind her. "Have you seen Rush?"

"As a matter of fact I have ma'am. He was goin' out to the market."

Claire smiled at him, remembering that she had not spent too much time alone with her bear of a comrade. She never just walked into the kitchen or weight room and began having a conversation with him, or even silently sitting near him. He seemed like he was a very cool guy, and he never caused trouble in the house. Still, Saul seemed a mystery, and she found herself questioning whether or not she should get to know him better. All she knew was that he had a sordid past, one that would frighten her just as bad as Umbrella had.

Folding her arms over her chest she said, "I barely know you." He smiled at her words, focusing on a plant in the window down the hall.

He folded his arms as well, clearing his throat. "I think it's best that way Claire." His eyes were shining with sincerity, but it caused a fear within her. Someone knocked on the door downstairs, and Rebecca yelled that she would get it.

Frowning, the redhead asked, "Do we usually get knocks on the door?" Saul frowned as well, and started for the stairway with Claire right behind him.

"Rebecca!" he called, getting no answer. When they reached the stairs, they saw their friend lying on her side in the foyer, knocked out. "Shit!" he hissed, rushing down to her. "Barry! Claire you go find Barry, I'll take care of Rebecca, but please be careful."

She nodded, running back upstairs to the rooms. When she neared Barry's room, she began tiptoeing around the corner; his door was wide open. Only one thing came to mind: Wesker.

Someone whispered from the bedroom, making her jump a little. "Claire?" She held her breath, and began walking backwards. "It's Barry!" he whispered urgently. She stopped and inhaled before running into his room, and was met with an assortment of weapons spread across his bed.

"Someone's here. Black hair was all I saw of 'em," he explained, loading clip after clip. Wordlessly, he threw her a gun.

"Black hair?"

He finished with the last gun and threw it over to her as well, arming himself afterwards. "Yeah. I think she had tan skin."

Claire felt her heart skip a beat, and her eyes grew wide in fear. "Gianna."

"Kick's sister?" he asked.

"Yeah, so we need to get back downstairs ASAP. Saul's with Rebecca." She did not have to say anymore, Barry was way ahead of her. Fearing Gianna is the only thing that got her to keep up with him, but it was not enough. He disappeared around the corner and in those three seconds that she was alone, she knew that she needed to look behind her. In that instant, she saw a small fist coming at her before it connected with her nose.

"Ah!" she screamed, tears blurring her vision. Downstairs she heard gunshots, and Barry ordering Saul to get Rebecca out of the house.

"Well, well, well," Gianna said calmly, walking around her opponent. "Claire Redfield. Where's my sister?"

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Claire looked up from the Italian woman's black, leather high-heeled boots and defiantly stared into her eyes. "Suck Wesker's dick." Bad idea. Another yelp of pain left her when she was kicked in the jaw by her best friend's psychotic sister.

Smirking at Claire's pain, Gianna pulled her up from the ground by her throat, and looked into her blue eyes. "Let's try again. Where is Isabella?"

Hating her for everything that she caused to happen to her friend, Claire spat in her face, wanting to laugh at the annoyed look that was now in the place of her sadistic smile.

"Ew." Angered, Gianna threw her adversary into the wall, hearing a satisfying crack. Claire was just happy it was not one of her bones. She tried to push herself up off of the carpet, but her weak arms failed in assisting her. To make it worse, Gianna placed a foot on her back, pushing down only enough to keep her in that position.

She did not get it, did Wesker tell her not to hurt her?

"You tell me where my sister and your brother are!"

Coughing, Claire tried to push herself up, but the Tyrant above her only added pressure. "Don't you have johns waiting in Vegas?" That merited her more pain. She felt the black haired woman's heel digging into her back, felt the exact amount of pain that was intended on being given. Being a Redfield, she would never give up, so she tried her luck by flinging out her arm and catching Gianna's other leg.

When the Tyrant lost her balance she wanted to cry in joy, but there was no time for that. She picked her gun up off of the ground, but before she could pull the trigger, Gianna pushed her down the hall. Before Claire could reach the other end, Gianna used her speed to meet her midway, and with an angered look, she pushed her through the window. Claire heard the glass break, felt its shards slice her arms and the right side of her face in retaliation to the pressure. Everything was happening in slow motion, and she heard the gunshots downstairs stop.

Gianna peered down at her as she completed her long drop from the second floor, smiling down at her opponent in joy of her victory. Claire heard the thud, felt the glass beneath her press into her skin, and in pain, she gave an anguished cry. Red tresses were blinding her, but she could not lift her hand to push them back. The sound of boots on wet grass caught her attention, and her mind screamed at her that he was back.

_I'd rather him than Gianna any day._

The voice that she heard, however, did not belong to Wesker. "Nice work Gianna. The others are not here so this one will have to do. Let's sedate her and head out."

"Roger!" she yelled down at him, giggling at what she said for some reason.

This man was not Wesker, nor was he Bartleby. Claire remembered the human who had come after Kick all too well to make the mistake of assuming it was him. This was someone else, and she saw that when he tenderly brushed her hair away from her face. He was brunet, with brown eyes that seemed to glow brightly in the darkness, and at the prospect of there being another Tyrant running with Wesker, Claire groaned.

Smiling at her, he said reassuringly, "It's all right. Sleep." Exactly when the needle pierced her skin, she did. Never had she been knocked out so fast, but whatever was in that needle did the trick. With that sleep though, there came dreams of a particular stoic blond, and how she saw him was how she wished he would be when she awoke.

* * *

At Kick's request, Leon and Chris had reluctantly left the room, getting a tour from Amy. Besides worrying that they would hurt her loathsome mother, she was worried that Chris holding her hand would become apparent to Leon who was thankfully too engrossed in her mother's excuses. Chris offered her the familial comfort she had needed then, but Leon would have taken it differently.

Shaking away those thoughts, she tried to focus on Alice. "Why is Omar still in jail?" They were standing now, Alice in delayed fear, but Kick had done so in case she needed to hit something. That something could not be her youngest siblings. "Better yet, who is Ben and Ken's father?"

Alice threw a glance at the now-napping babies, but brought her gaze back to her daughter. In truth she did regret what she had done, but with the knowledge that she would still not be forgiven, she would not bother to apologize. Isabella could have been something, someone. An actress, a model, or maybe she could have actually earned herself a decent education. Hell, she had taught herself and her sister English so who knew where her life would have gone.

With all of the what ifs in mind, Alice felt confident that she had a good argument. "What I did was wrong _habibti_, but I would not change it for the world." Her daughter's mouth fell open, and she saw her rage boiling over so she quickly added, "But it has turned out to be for the best! If you were not what you are you would not be able to help Omar-"

"If I had been here then Nadia would still be alive goddamn you!" The children did not stir, so there was nothing Alice could do to avoid the subject. "And if you weren't such a lying bitch then _Angel_ and _Stephano_ would not have killed each other over you and Omar and I would have been with our father! And he could have taken Nadia away from you, you lying, conniving, gold-digging, selfish whor-"

The palm of Alice's hand met with her daughter's face, and when her head whipped to the right an expensive looking vase flew into the wall. The impact frightened Alice, but she did not dwell on the phenomenon. The slap had only hurt her feelings, not her face, and when she held her cheek she turned to look at her mother with tears clouding her eyes.

Tears falling down her own face, Alice began to look apologetic and began regretting everything she had ever done in her whole life. "I'm sorry," she breathed, grabbing for her daughter.

Kick pulled away in disgust. "A slap to the face," she began, voice breaking, "Is nothing in comparison to how you FUCKED UP MY LIFE!" Her face became red with both dejection and rage.

"You could have broken away from your sister at any given time!"

"Don't you dare try and blame this on Gianna when you threw us both to the wolves!" she screamed in protest. The babies were stirring, beginning to cry. "Gave us to the Mexican! Pimped us out! Then when we call you to forgive you in Vegas you ask us for money?"

Alice's eyes wandered to the twins, and she rushed over to pick them up but Kick beat her to Ken. They stood face to face, slightly bouncing the children in their arms to pacify them. Ingrid came in with the twins' stroller and offered to take them for a walk. The mother and daughter agreed, placing them in, but before they were taken away, Kick placed a kiss on each of their foreheads.

Neither of the women had stopped crying, but Kick was still planning on finishing the conversation they had started. "I won't ever have that Alice. _Mama_ I will _never_ have children! The drugs, all because we couldn't stand looking at ourselves sober, I can't have kids. I won't have an Amy or a Ben or Ken.

"But Gianna did. His name was Giovanni."

The flow of tears down her face had slowed, and Alice grabbed her heart. "I'm a grandmother?"

"Not anymore. I killed him."

The Arab woman's breath caught in her throat and she fell to the carpet as she muttered to herself in her language.

"_Allah, Dios, _He won't help you now. Wesker let me do it too. I know you know him. Is he the father of Ben and Ken? After me did he want it from you too?"

With her tear-streaked face, the mother that Kick had both consciously and unconsciously hated for seven years stared up at her pleadingly. "He's the only reason your brother is still alive Isabella," she said, close to a whisper. Feeling foolish, the hard look on Kick's face disappeared, and she now became curious.

"At the end of '97 Omar got sentenced and just after Hunter told me he had seen him another blond man came. He said that he saw the name Abolhassan and asked if I had any daughters. I told him about you and Gianna and he suddenly became more interested in you kids."

Biting on her thumbnail, Kick frowned. "Around that time I was made into a Tyrant. 'Woke up not knowing anything. A year later I killed Roger, then I was put in the cryogenic tank as punishment per Umbrella. But when Wesker came here he couldn't have known that Omar and I had the same father; Gianna didn't like hearing that so the only reason he could have protected Omar for these past few years is because…"

Sniffling, Alice finished her daughter's sentence. "It's because he cared about you Izzy. Not because you and Omar are a match."

"Well who is-"

"Alice?" A man's voice caught their attention..

"You can take away my life now if you want," Alice offered, shakily getting to her feet. I did it because I was young and stupid, because I had no business having children. But if Stephano and Angel were alive today, I would have chosen your father. I'm sorry."

Just as she finished her apology, a man entered the room, and they both looked at him with faces red as tomatoes. "Honey?"

The women looked at each other, and back to the man who appeared to be the one responsible for the house that they were all standing in. His black hair was slicked back, his hazel eyes were on Kick, and they all were silent with confusion.

"What's going on?" he asked when no one spoke. "Who is this?"

Not knowing whether to lie or tell the truth, Kick opened her mouth, but closed it again.

"This is Isabella," Alice chirped, getting a look of confusion from her husband. "Izzy, this is my husband, Ben and Ken's father: Carl Harris."

"Isabella as in your daughter?" he asked with a smile now on his face. Alice confirmed it by pulling her daughter into a sincere hug, running a hand through her hair as they both began to cry again. Kick tried not to hurt her, but it had been so long since her mother had held her. So long since she had felt that kind of love. It felt so much better than she remembered now that some of the hate was gone.

Alice kissed Kick's cheek and whispered, "You get your brother out of here. And you tell him I'm sorry, and that I love him. Isabella, remember that I love you too."

Though this was not the end of their issues, she sighed and replied with, "I will, and I love you too mommy." All this time she knew that there was a thin line between family and enemy, but Omar being in Umbrella's clutches made her remember that though love may hurt you could not control when you felt it. Alice had gone through the same struggles that her daughter had to become the person she was today, to escape the darkness. You could always choose your friends but when it came to love, that was eternal.

* * *

A/N: Loooong chapter. So review. : )


	23. SORRY!

I just want to apologize for not updating in almost a year. If people are still even expecting me to continue, I hope you forgive me but college has kicked my brain's and emotion's ass. It's not hard but the things that have been going on in my life have definitely affected my desire to write. Hopefully I will update soon and nobody has forgotten AVC. I will finish part one and move on to part two. I need the discipline -something I have been lacking- to take on the things in life that I wish to pursue and to finish them as well. Depression helped me write, and when I got rid of it I couldn't anymore, then when it came back I was too angry at people to do anything constructive. I will most definitely try to get back to both my RE stories and my Inuyasha stories.

Ripsi


	24. Match

A/N: Boy it has been a while. So sorry. I have come out of the writer's block spell, but it lingers in the final chapters of part one. A few days ago an idea came to me for a chapter, but this chapter is not coming around until part two. I couldn't stop writing for it until two this morning though! Consider this a preview of part two everyone, and a sincere apology for neglecting the story. I also changed it to first person because it seems funnier from the characters' POV plus I found I write a lot easier this way. Can't imagine why I ever found it annoying. Of course you'll be confused since you don't know what led to the events in this anyway, but think of it as a trailer. :)

Chapter: Match

I looked at the knife that had whizzed by my face, seeing now that it was planted to the hilt in the cave wall. So it could happen. Upon remembering it took an enormous amount of strength to achieve this result (unless this was all a part of the Gianna situation I was having), I let a smirk creep across my lips, and turned to look into the face of Roger.

"Who the hell are you?" My surprise was both visible on my blood smeared face, and audible in my now hoarse voice. Before me, in the lit cave passage stood a tall black woman with hair as black as my own that reached down to the middle of her back, full lips colored with brown lipstick, and she wore a black, leather zip up cat suit with the top zipped low. "Oh, it's the leader of the itty bitty titty committee." Hey don't blame me, her boobs were like Mila Jovavich sized.

Fine, maybe not that small, but I'm in a D so a B is pretty small to me. Right now I didn't know if this girl was friend or foe, but when someone was out to do you harm they wouldn't let your remarks about their flaws or less fortunate physical attributes go lightly. Her beautiful face scrunched up in a look of disgust, and I saw the pure hatred that was in her eyes, and oh yeah I'd seen this kind of hate before. It was jealousy induced hate; she knew me, and now it was my turn to know her.

"Isabella 'Kick' Abolhassan-Ramirez. Such a big name for such a little woman."

Knowing she was trying to insult me, I gave a sarcastic and unenthusiastic reply. "Oh my feelings are so hurt by your comeback." A glint from her eyes stopped me in the middle of bitchy retort. Her eyes were a strange color of hazel, but when I squinted I saw what it was: I saw gold in her orbs. Subtly, I took a whiff of the air, and I had to hide my surprise of what I found.

"Who are you?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips. "I'm guessing you're parents are from Ethiopia, you're an American by birth, and you don't like me too much." Despite my disheveled appearance, I was going to let this Lara Croft wannabe know that I just because I was smeared with mud, blood, and zombie viscera didn't mean I had become incompetent. My waist length hair clung to my face and arms, thanks to the river and the drippy cave, and mud caked my bare legs and thighs. Whatever, I still looked hot.

With a knowing smirk on her face, she said, "I am Sasha Maru."

"Sasha Perfect? How… subtle." I wasn't liking this situation already, and a voice in the back of my mind screamed that I wasn't in any shape for this. I needed to run as fast as my legs could take me, ignoring any signals of pain coming from my injured limb. Suddenly I wanted to go set that plant on fire all over again, and this time, throw a few slugs on it as well. The hole that went through my calf had still not healed, and thanks to the venom in the plant it probably wouldn't for a few days.

I could swim with an injured leg but running through this rocky and unleveled cave was a completely different thing to deal with. Let's face some facts about myself though: I was hardheaded and therefore soft assed, too prideful to turn down a fight simply because this amateur bitch was creeping me out and I was too bored with all these opponents that were so 1998. Even the new me scared myself, and the risks I had been taking were going to all catch up with me. She was silently calling me out, taunting me with her eyes to attack, and to stall for time to assess the situation and my surroundings I decided to strike up another terse conversation.

"So, what's a bitch like you doing in a place like this?"

"The same reason a whore like you is still in good and perfect health."

I chuckled at her despite understanding what she was trying to say, which was that she was not human either. "Oh, safe sex." Not recently of course… It's not like I have to anymore. Hello! Dead here… sort of.

"I've been looking for you. And of course looking forward to the day we finally met." She was keeping her cool, much to my annoyance.

Hmm, so she was meant to be my assassin huh? Thanks a shitload Roger. In another attempt to rattle her, I asked, "Could you step into the light a little more? Ultra black chick in the dark kinda makes this unfair." Okay, it was a stretch; she was really not that dark, and was actually a brown color.

"You should do the same; matching the cave wall gives you a sort of chameleon advantage," she said with a giggle. I smiled back at her, actually finding her reply to be quite funny. Oh great, we were becoming the kind of rivals that were eventually going to harbor secret respects for one another, and we hadn't even thrown a punch.

Ew, I thought to myself.

"Why don't you eat me?" I expected her to grow angry at this one at least, but she surprised me by flicking out her tongue. Oh great, she went both ways. "Well, at the endof the day I'm still better than you so the insults shouldn't even matter. It's me, Isabella. The bitch that has survived it all and this dead woman tells her tales proudly. You? Well, I think second rate assassin covers it pretty-"

When she dashed toward me with inhuman speed I was shocked, but ready for it so I had no time to marvel over the fact that she was almost as fast as I was. I spun around quickly and pushed her toward the cave wall, but rather than collide into the rock she went with the motion and pulled her dagger from it. Before she could turn and attempt to slash at me, I used my agility to jump off the side of the cave wall to propel myself upward. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her race towards me, but I couldn't let my anxiety get the best of me. I grabbed one of the lamps lining the cave walls and threw it back at Sasha, earning a squeal of surprise.

Before I could celebrate I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder, followed by a shriek. Wait that was me. Without thinking, I turned to face the smirking woman, and pulled the knife from my wound as quickly as I could. Rather than throw the knife back at her, snapped it in half and threw the remains to the side.

"Oh I'm gonna kill you!" I shouted, rushing at her, but it was her turn to dodge me. I was left with a view of the wall, and then I felt her tugging my hair. Quickly, thanking God I let my hair grow so long, I turned and delivered three good punches to her face. I saw her raise her foot in an attempt to kick me back, but before she could act I swiveled around, seeing my hair twist in her grasp. While she was wrapped up in her confusion I grabbed her hair, wrapped it around my fist, and gave a tug that startled her into letting go.

I heard her shout curses at me, and with a smirk I decided to have a little fun during this fight. With a quick burst of energy I tossed her into the rocky cave wall, not letting go of her hair so I could swing her into another wall. Just as she shrieked I decided to let go of her locks, and threw her into the wall on my left. With the impact came a rumble from within the cave and I knew that I had a limited amount of time to finish this.

* * *

Oh great Claire, what have you gotten yourself into? I asked myself this question about six billion times, and I delivered a kick of frustration to the old grand piano that sat in the middle of the creepy room. Speaking of Kick, where was my partner? Ok, I was officially lost; I had no idea where Rush, Kick, Jill, Chris, or any of the others were. With a heavy sigh I slid down the dust and cobweb coated walls, not caring that I would stand up with a dusty ass.

Like anybody was gonna see it soon anyway.

The door was gone, as in no longer in the spot that I entered this God-forsakenly boring room. Wall lamps, various insects and arachnids, and a rug that held that eyesore of an instrument were my only company in this little chamber of hell. Looking up to the dark ceiling I asked, "Why me?" I was sure that I had been stuck in here for an hour, but whether or not I was alone, well that was something that was still up for debate. I blew out a huff of breath as I continued to look around the room that I had been unable to properly search; all I had was the moonlight and a lighter. As soon as I entered this room the lights went off, however, I knew it was only this room; I could see light from windows on the other side of the mansion.

My radio had last provided me with a garbled transmission from Kick, and I assumed that she was in the river we saw while walking through the woods to the house. So there was no telling where she was now, and Chris and Jill… Ugh, now was no time to argue, but they sure as hell were going at it last I saw of them.

Realizing that I had another choice other than sitting here in silence, I turned to face the wall and raised one of my boots up. "Somebody get me out of here!" Though I probably looked like a child throwing a tantrum, I began kicking against the wall as hard as I could, not considering the possibility that at any second I would be wishing that I conserved my energy. "It's Claire! Open the fucking door!" Wherever the hell the door was.

"Somebody. Get. Me. Out. Of. Here!" With every word I delivered a kick, and with the final one I heard the sound of electricity whirring, and air began flowing from the vent above me. Upon opening my eyes I saw that the room was now illuminated, revealing the walls to be covered in red wallpaper with little gold fleur-de-lis' symbols in gold circles. Two wooden chairs rested against the far wall, their legs providing a secure place for spiders to weave their webs, and the next thing I noticed was how nice the piano still looked. This place had been abandoned for years, but somehow it looked to be in pretty good condition in comparison to the rest of the place.

The only problem I could find with it was the thick coating of dust, but other than that… To test my theory I walked over to the instrument and hit a key. Though I stopped taking piano, despite my brother's disapproval, I remembered a few things about it. This thing was in tune; someone had been playing it, and those people were probably the original caretakers of this place. Now it became clear as to how this building remained a secret for so long, and how things hadn't gone wrong until three weeks ago.

I could see the scene playing before my eyes as though it were taking place before me. The poor men assigned to the mansion had no idea what they were guarding the derelict building for, and they probably never received the memo to never enter. In boredom, they began entering the place, something that explained the empty food cartons, water bottles, candy wrappers, and soda cans in the kitchen and dining area. During their exploration of the mansion, they happened upon this room and it quickly became a favorite hangout, but their curiosity was only whet by their findings. And eventually their quest for more led them to the basements, the control rooms where they hit the mother lode, and unknowingly they hit the buttons that would seal their fates.

My mind movie came to an instant halt, and I looked to the closet behind me. It felt like I was in no control of my body, like I had just been propelled in the direction of the brown French doors, and my hands reached for the little knobs. As the doors folded back, a black mass spilled out onto my feet, and being the girl I was I shrieked in disgust when I saw that they were dead cockroaches. Their black bodies were merely empty shells, dried up long ago, and I clutched my chest, feeling my heart beat wildly beneath my ribcage.

With a grimace I kicked the dead bugs' shells off of my boots, and took a look into the small space. On the floor of the closet I saw junk, something you normally find in a space reserved for storage, and I was about to shut the door when I noticed something on the wall. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the lighter that I fortunately failed to return to Kick. I flicked it to ignite, and held it to the suspicious part of the wall.

"What the hell?" I whispered to myself, holding the flame closer to the green vine that peeked out. The flame danced a bit, and I lifted my hand up, feeling a small breeze coming from the wall. Maybe I had got lucky. Hesitantly, I gave a soft push against what appeared to be a wall, and much to my elation my find turned out to be a door that creaked open.

I stowed the lighter and pushed a little harder on the rusty old door, and it opened all the way. Without thinking I practically jumped through the threshold, and I immediately wished I hadn't gotten carried away; I landed in a murky puddle, splashing mud all over my camouflage pants.

"Great!" I exclaimed, not even bothering to wipe at the grime. Instead I chose to use my already dirty enough hands to push stray strands of hair behind my ears, and I finally looked up at my new location. "Whoa." I was in what appeared to be the garden, full of vines and ornaments and small stone benches. It was hard to believe that someone actually had leisure time in a place like this, and having known Umbrella scientists personally, I didn't think they cared too much for "having fun." It didn't matter now, because if there was once beauty out here, then it was long taken over by the vicious ivy. Suddenly, I caught a whiff of something familiar, like burning leaves, and I walked forward a few steps.

I reached for the gun secured at my hip and pulled it out. With my weapon aimed down, I took a few steps forward, the dead and fallen leaves on the ground crunching beneath my booted feet.

"Isabella hasn't been performing well in combat lately."

I turned in the direction of the voice, my gun raised and ready for an attack, but if one were coming would the person be making small talk with me? I let the voice play over in my head, something I only needed to do once before I placed it. As my weapon fell, so did my head; there was no point in fighting when there was no way that I could possibly win.

"And if I may say so myself dear heart, she is looking rather thin nowadays." Before he could get too close to me, I turned around to give him an unwelcoming scowl. His thin lips pulled up into a smirk, his hair looked blonder than ever, and his eyes were aglow behind his black shades that should allow for no transparency. "Hello Claire."

"Wesker," I breathed, and in my voice I swore that I heard relief. "Oh my God. What are you doing here?"

With his hands behind his back, he took a step towards me, leaving only a foot between us. "Watching you and your friends clean up for me of course. But if you never get out how are you supposed to take credit for that?"

At his cynical wording I gasped and backed away from him, but I was not at all surprised at what he said, more so at the notion that he would leave _me_ here to die. In the past I would expect as much out of him, but over time we had developed a mutual understanding that neither of us, in spite of our history would ever leave the other to die if we could help it. And even though he was not my ally, I had to admit that he was not my enemy.

As though he read my mind, he closed the space between us and gave a low chuckle. "Claire I believe you understand what I meant. Of course I would never leave such a valuable asset such as you to perish in this… place," he finished, looking around not seeming to find an adjective strong enough to express his abhorrence for this hellhole. See how easy it was for me though? Quickly I had to remind myself that Wesker had feelings that surprised detest, that his emotional gauge ranged from evil to… something worse than evil.

Damn Claire, one minute with him and you begin to act just like him, I thought wincingly. "Then get us out of here," I commanded, which had become regular when it came to him. Usually he would just slap the piss out of me and demand to know where I gained the audacity to "command" him to do anything. Boy times had changed.

His grin returned as he began stepping forward more, forcing me back into the stone of the foundation. "Is _that_ really what you want?"

I reconsidered my wording, my jaw fell ajar. "That is not what I meant!" My exclamation came out in a hiss, but it only made him chuckle at the fact that he had gotten to me.

Sighing, he took a step back and crossed his arms over his broad chest, raising an eyebrow in thought. "Claire, Claire, Claire." It was getting extremely eerie that he was calling me by my name, but better than constantly being called his "dear heart." And the niceties were all a part of his ploy anyhow; because of the little fact he found out that him, Kick, Gianna, and I had in common, he was trying to get me on his side. Even though I had not given into his bullshit, I already felt used just thinking about it.

"So are you gonna get all of us out of here or what?" After rephrasing my question, I put my hands on my hips and boy I bet I looked bratty as ever.

As if he were thinking he tapped his cheek with his index finger and breathed, "No."

Having seen it coming, I nodded my head and stared down the barely visible ground while biting my lip. I wanted to question his decision, but I figured I had pushed my luck with him already and that I would not be able to get what I wanted without giving up myself as part of some sort of deal. With my eyes still trained on the ground, I began to walk past him, but I felt one of his gloved hands shoot up and grab my arm.

"If you go looking for Kick you won't survive for long. And there's nothing I will be able to do to help."

My initial plan was to not look at him again, but that came crashing to pieces when I heard his ominous warning. "What are you talking about?" I turned back to look him in the eyes, and he refused to release my arm as he turned his body to mine.

He did a quick search of the area for some reason, and it was unsettling to see Albert Wesker making sure _he_ could speak safely. "I don't know how strong she is dear heart, but if you do find Isabella on this estate and she shows up, I want you to run as far away as you can."

Just as he brought a gloved hand up to caress my face I shook my head in confusion. "Wait, run from Kick? I know she's done some bad-"

"Not Isabella. Someone who will never have mercy on you Claire or your friends is here. She doesn't care too much for going for the hurt over the kill; she will kill you first only if you get in her way."

His disquiet had rubbed off on me, contaminating the mood of the whole garden and my voice displayed this. "What is this woman after Wesker? What are we dealing with?"

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I cannot say what dear heart because that is not for me to divulge, but she is after the woman who you happen to call 'best friend' and 'partner.'"

"So you'd let this person kill us?"

"Claire!" he hissed, his grip tightening around my wrist, making me recognize that I had offended him in some way. "Until you are my responsibility I cannot defend you, nor can my presence be made known to her. It is my company's wish that no harm be caused to her by my hand. At this point, I can only advise and caution you." His stare, though longing was hard, and I would take his advice to heart.

I felt his grip loosen, but before he could pull away I caught his arms with my hands and held on tightly. "But where will you go?"

With a devilish smirk, he pulled out of my grasp and began backing away. "You'll know. Soon enough."

I raised my hand to protest his departure, but his form soon became a blur, and he disappeared into the night. In exasperation, I hugged myself and ended up brushing my hand against what felt like paper. I looked down and tucked in next to my gun was a note, indubitably from Wesker. Hastily, with shaking hands I opened up the folded, lineless paper.

"Find them now. I'll take care of it."

A man of few words he was, but he knew how to get his point across. For a reason that was unknown even to me, the person committing the action, I refolded the paper and placed it in my pocket instead of tossing it on the ground. With a smile I started off on my new mission given to me by Wesker. A mission that was given by him that would actually save lives. That man…

A/N: This is not a whole chapter but part of it, and I hope that this has a few people happy for a second part. As you can see I'm still moving slowly with Claire and Wesker, but it's for the best. And I hope to finish with part one. I know what I want and how it will end, but it's just a part I'm stuck on X (


	25. Chase

Disclaimer: I don't own RE, but I own this fic and Kick, Saul, Rush, Patricia, Bartleby, Gianna and my other characters are mine too.

Priority one was to land in Greece as quickly as possible, and to measure up the damage that had been done to their home. Jill had called as soon as she and Rush returned, and that phone call had come at the wrong time. At that point, Kick said screw covert and rather than having the silent jailbreak that she could have accomplished, she ended up having Umbrella's big guns aimed right at their heads. It had been difficult enough to get Omar out to see them, but to make sure that they all got to the airport was hell. Kick was overcome with so much joy that she had at least one sibling with her, that Claire's latest abduction seemed like a bothersome fly, but that did not mean that she did not care.

Claire was like a sister to Kick, and just having one sibling back was not good enough. Omar was filled in, and Chris had never seen someone experience so many emotions in one sitting, but what bothered him was what he had already gone through. How was he able to hear that one of his sisters had become a BOW while the other was an evil BOW? Though evil had also seemed too dramatic of a word, they could not find any other to describe Wesker's team. Still, even though Kick was so happy, Chris, could not share that feeling with her, not when his sister had once more been taken captive by that mad man.

_Captain Wesker. What the hell happened with you?_

"You okay?" Kick had come down from the other end of the cabin, leaving Omar and Leon to talk; he had felt that since he was somewhat family, that there were things to discuss. The Tyrant had a sympathetic look on her face as she neared her comrade, and she took the seat next to him. "I didn't mean to upset you with my brother being here and Claire…" She trailed off, but only because of how repetitive it all was. Wesker's plots were definitely starting to piss her off, and his motives had recently come into question.

Chris cared for so many other people, so why the hell was he constantly targeting the youngest Redfield, especially when he had proclaimed time and time again that he had no qualm with her? Such a strange man, and yet for some reason she still cared for him.

"I'll be ok." He grabbed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he stared into her crimson eyes. "She always gets home. She always comes back to me." Suddenly it felt as though the conversation had crept away from Claire, but neither of them wished for their talk to come down to that. There were so many other things that they needed to worry about, and this was not one of them.

One thing at a time.

* * *

They had returned to find bullet holes in the walls of their newest home, and really that was it. Or so they though until they saw the mess that Gianna and Claire had left behind. At that, Kick's nostrils flared and the conflicted feelings that were tearing at Omar's heart became visible in his eyes. His sister had led an attack on his sister.

They had all agreed, they would go to America, where Wesker instructed them to go to find Claire, but some would have to be left out on this mission: Barry, and of course, Omar. Saul wanted to go, and would not take no for an answer, but Rebecca chose to stay. This was not how she wished to end her days at AUA; chasing down Wesker with a severe head injury. Rush was the first to start calling out what they needed, and with scrutiny, Jill stared on at him, wondering his true intentions.

* * *

The sound of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead annoyed her into waking up, but Claire still refused to open her blue eyes. The air felt strange; cold and wet against her skin, but still she struggled to feign sleep as best as she could. From the feel of the soft fabric beneath her, she could tell that she had been laid on an old, worn-out couch. These things all told her hat she was in more danger than usual; normally -and this was when Wesker had her- she was either on a floor or in a more comfortable setting. But never had Wesker placed her in such a setting that even just the ambience felt seedy; this could not be him.

Then she heard it, the voice of her captor, the man who had attacked their home in Greece. "Here's the girl, now where is Isabella?" Were they making a deal over her, whoever _they_ were? Claire tried to relax the muscles in her face as her curiosity peaked at the reference towards her. She heard something being thrown down, then heard a door open, producing the sound of clicking heels.

What's taking so long?" Gianna caused such rage within her that she reflexively ground her teeth together at the sound of her voice. "That girl has been asleep for two days now, and no one has shown up."

"Yes," Claire's strange captor agreed, "You did say she was of some value to Isabella. Where is she?" The way he spoke reminded her so much of Birkin, but the tone he used… Was he really speaking so boldly to Albert Wesker? Who else could have provided him with such information?

"Roger, please do have some patience." That confirmed it, Wesker _was_ there, so there was no use in feigning sleep, but she did not wish to see Gianna at this moment. Not even Roger, who she had heard little about, but in those short stories there were great horrors. "They are on their way as we speak, so now all there is left for you two to do is head to the factory and wait."

Gianna and Roger said no more, Claire heard their exit, and the room was silent for a while. Soon, Wesker would address her, knowing that she was awake, her breathing being the tale-tell sign. With her once more in his custody, -that was enough embarrassment- she decided to beat him to the punch by trying to sit up. As soon as she pushed her body up from the sofa, her arms buckled beneath her, and she fell back onto the cushion face down. Her eyelids felt heavy, drooping, pulling her back into darkness.

Once more, she tried to sit up, hearing Wesker make his way over to her. "Dear heart, please allow me to help you."

_Ugh._

When she felt him sit her up she wished she could have growled, but she was so tired that she was like a rag doll in his hands. He sat down and pulled her close to his unbeating heart, if it even existed. "Wes…" Unable to finish his name, she gave into sleep once more, hearing him hum to her a soothing melody.

An hour went by, perhaps two, Claire did not really know. Wesker was still there though, but his humming had stopped, and when she looked up at him he looked as though he was contemplating something crucial. She feared the look in his eyes, and tried to push away from him, but his hold was iron-clad.

"What are you doing?" She sounded so desperate, so innocent, and yet at the same time she was wishing that he was human; he would have been disposed of long ago. If he were human she would not be here, would not have been wishing that things were different, and by doing so she realized that she was betraying Chris.

Rather than speaking, he stroked her red hair, grinning at her and seeming strangely sincere. "Dear heart," he sighed, looking at the wall ahead. "I am so sorry."

His apology had caught her off guard, and she stopped pushing against him, instead she was staring up at him calmly, eyebrows raised. Then, without warning, he stood up, pushing her into the opposite wall at the same time. She could tell that he was using his Tyrant strength; she left an indention in the wall from the force. She stood, shakily and was sure that she looked like a cornered sheep, and he was the wolf. From the shock, all her brain could think was, "Why?"

No words between them, the blond crossed the room, landing a punch to her jaw before she could even move out of the way. "Christopher is going to start taking this seriously."

Claire's mind was a jumble now as she tried to listen to his words, but he only began delivering blow after blow to her ribs. Her mind wanted to concentrate on what he said, but she was feeling far too much pain to even understand. His face flashed into view as she struggled to roll over, but he grabbed her by her arm, pulling so hard that she heard her shoulder dislocate over her screams. He flung her to the bare wooden floor, and she sobbed, hearing a rib crack.

"Why?" she whispered, tears staining the old unpolished floor. She asked herself that as well as him. Wesker had been gentle with her, not at all interested in seeing her pained. What had changed in this short amount of time?

His reply to her question was a strong blow to the wall, his fist easily tearing through, and he cried out. It bordered on agony and annoyance, so was it the drugs? Claire did not know, but she was not trying to figure out as she half-ran and half-crawled behind the couch, not putting any weight on her left arm. As Wesker continued his tirade alone, Claire could only pray and hope that Chris would come, but from what Roger said earlier…

_Kick, don't come._

* * *

They had split up into two groups; Rush, Jill, and Chris, and Kick, Leon, and Saul. It actually felt strange to be back in the States after the incident in Raccoon City. Yet that very incident had brought them all together, which at the moment was not what they considered good fortune. Wesker had given them two addresses, one for Kick, and one for Chris. But they were refusing to play by Wesker's rules today, not when so much was a stake.

Map over the hood of their van, Chris began coming up with a plan while Leon admired the red mustang Kick nabbed from the airport parking lot. Still, he seemed to have reservations about them having such a fancy car, especially since Chris and Jill chose to take an old beat up van. They would not have resorted to stealing though if AUA had chosen to hastily provide them with much needed transportation.

"Babe?" Leon asked in a strange voice. "Uh, couldn't we have gotten something less conspicuous?"

"No not that road," she mumbled to Chris, pointing to the map.

"I appreciate this but…"

Annoyed, she turned to him, hair swinging around and hitting Chris, but he only stared at the back of her head and self consciously, he turned back to the map. "Leon, I don't have time for this. We needed something fast so let's not be modest just because Chris and his group wanted to get the Mystery Van." He gulped before nodding and once again pretended to be admiring the car. Realizing the harshness of her words, she sighed and made her way over to him. "I'm sorry.

"But we have to get this done. We're switching addresses so that means I'll have to deal with Claire and they're gonna have to face whatever Wesker had in store for me."

The choice was a dumb one, but this way they had a better chance of getting out of this with both Claire and Kick. Her words may have been spoken without thought, because as she looked into her love's eyes she saw that he was taking this all seriously. He said nothing in response, but instead chose to pull her into his arms, holding her for what felt like hours.

* * *

They reached the old, run-down apartments, and for a second they wondered if it housed anything more than a family of addicts and roaches. When they saw lights flickering on and off, they were sure that this was no setup, but they were royally pissed to find that Wesker had gone so low as to make this a semi-public affair. There was no way they could make too much noise if other people were around, witnessing the going-ons of an underworld they wanted no part of. Room 314 was where they were heading, to the top floor of the crammed apartment building, and this worried Leon; Wesker could simply leap out with Claire in tow, but it was moments like these that he was grateful that his girlfriend was not so human. She could easily perform the same feat, but the question still lingered whether or not she was fast enough to keep up with her old mentor.

They had chosen to take the stairs, moving quickly, but quietly. They still knew that there was no way that they would be able to surprise Wesker. People like him watched from cameras, through spies, and crept about in the shadows. He was a snake, and no one had any reason to warn anyone excessively of the treacherous man's ways; you could look at him and tell that he was no good. Despite his good looks and that usually attractive bad boy theme, something repelled you from him, and the only thing it could have been was instinct.

They found the room that they were looking for, Saul was the one to see it first, and though they were as quiet as church mice he gave a signal for absolute silence. Inside the room they heard boards creaking; someone was walking around. For a second, Kick looked worried and she got Saul's attention.

With wide eyes she mouthed, "Wesker can smell me."

Saul only shook his head with a look on his face that clearly said he doubted the Tyrant was paying any attention to what was going on outside of the door. And he was right, they could hear a few people -indubitably drug addicts- moving around inside a couple of rooms. The large man gestured for Kick to go ahead of him since she could kick down the door easier than him or Leon. Walking on the tips of her toes, the black haired woman steadied herself in front of the door, her gun pointed downward. In her peripheral vision she saw Leon performing the countdown with his fingers.

One. Two.

On three she kicked in the door at its hinges, using all of her strength, and rather than it breaking it flew into the room. It was stopped by the wall but it was safe to assume that the wall received some damage itself. The team rushed inside the apartment space, met with both a tacky front room and Wesker holding a limp Claire.

"Let her go Wesker!" Leon yelled.

A mocking smile formed on their opponent's handsome face, but all Kick could see was her friend, completely helpless, and in the arms of a cold-blooded killer.

Cocking his head to the side, the blond man said, "I thought you all would be smart enough to follow my directions to the letter, but it appears I gave you too much credit. Do you realize the danger your friends are in now?"

Saul started after him, angry at himself because Wesker spoke the truth, and because he supported the plan to switch instructions. Shaking his head, the Tyrant knocked the boards from the space where a window once existed, and before any of them could reach him he leaped from the window. When the three comrades finally reached the opening in the building, there was no trace of Wesker on the ground, but the black car parked on the side of the road was definitely his. Claire had stirred and was giving him a hard time as he tried to force her into the vehicle.

Without consultation, Kick grabbed her boyfriend and looked back at Saul. "We'll let you know our location." Sweeping Leon off of his feet, she ran to the window, and jumped through. She heard him yell in protest, but when they hit the ground she only continued toward the Mustang. The keys were still inside and Kick quickly made her way to the driver's seat after letting Leon down by the passenger door.

Once the squeal of Wesker's tires sounded, the couple looked at each other, and were soon inside the car. There was no way in hell he was getting away.

A/N: Sorry it was short, but I needed to put something up. Please review!


	26. Deeper Into Darkness

Deeper into Darkness

A/N: Claire is not in this chapter much because she is unconscious and beaten up so I'm not trying to push her out of the limelight. I used my personal experience with driving with Kick. Well, I can drive, but I still don't have a license, and not much use for one seeing as I don't have a car and nor can I afford one unless my wreck settlement is big enough. Everybody pray for $10,000 for me. Two can by a car but until I get a job I'll need gas money. But before my boyfriend so graciously and riskily let me drive the rentals he had while he found a new car, I wasn't so good at driving. Then I was good enough to drive with one hand, and of all the drivers I know it took them a while to do that. Of course, I had a BAD run before I got good enough and on my first try I could park, back in, and drive with traffic. But unlike Kick, I can pass the test. I thought it would be funny too because I haven't mentioned her driving and neither has she.

Disclaimer: I do not own RE but I own this fic, Kick, Saul, Rush, Gianna, Roger, and any other original characters.

The address that Rush and his group decided on led them to an old factory, one that most likely would lead them to a secret held by Umbrella back when they were operable. The dirt road up to the old building was difficult to navigate; not many other vehicles had been riding through to keep the grass down and the trees from reaching out to their kin on the other side of the path. The van was so low to the ground that they heard every scrub against a stone or fallen branch, and seeing the place was actually a treat; their rough journey had ended.

"So," said Jill, slamming the passenger door closed, "What do you think this place originally was?" There was no sign out front, so the assumption was that it was taken when the business collapsed. It was not an Umbrella building originally, but it was probably only used now as a warehouse for useless data and files. Hopefully there were no creatures that were thrown away there; prototypes were always much more effective killing weapons, mainly because they were uncontrollable and non-discriminative. Proof of that was how Kick turned on her creator, well in her case modifier since she was not a test tube baby.

Rush checked his phone before responding to the brunette. "Well, it looks like it was innocent. Probably an old processing plant, packaging, or oil. Nothing dangerous of course because let's face it, when Umbrella's things mix with dangerous biological things… things tend to get a little dangerous."

"I just hope Claire's ok," Chris threw in. He understood that everyone was anxious about what awaited them inside, but he could only remember that he wasn't going to be the one who saved his little sister from Wesker. It was a blow to the ego for sure, and something as grave as Claire being in the hands of a madman did not merit dick measuring. He should take any and all help available to him, especially when his former captain had been acting so strangely. Kidnapping Claire more than once?

The Tyrant had returned her in excellent shape, wearing a dress and everything, but Chris saw more there. It was almost as if Wesker was stalling for something with her, and he was waiting on an opportunity to emerge from the situation. Under duress, people could be molded very easily, and with the right treatment towards her Claire was no different. The human mind was fragile, the slightest memory acting as a trigger for disaster, and Stockholm syndrome was possible.

It was also more than likely. Claire was being treated so well that she came back as though she had not even been in captivity at all. Of course Wesker was the main antagonist in many of her dreams after the events at Rockford and Antarctica, but for her to begin questioning Wesker's behavior rather than continue condemning it was abnormal for her. When Claire held a grudge, boy did she hold a grudge.

Chris saw their blond leader take out his gun, and with a nod of his head he commanded Chris and Jill to do the same. Together they went to the steps, counting together before kicking in the door.

The factory's main room was huge; all the room was needed for whatever it was that was done here, but there was no trace of anything. No machines, no conveyor belts, and only a few, plain boxes. Of course there were other sections of the building, and they were more likely to figure more out if they split up. Chris chose to take the back building, completely separated from the main building, Rush decided to search the ground floor of the main building, and Jill went upstairs. Whatever Wesker had waiting for Kick, they would have to deal with, and seeing as Kick was much stronger than them, they needed to brace themselves and expect the worst.

In Chris' mind, the worst was legions of Tyrants, but Wesker surely was not trying to kill his protégé. So that left him with a big question mark over his head, but he had to concentrate. He would be daft to walk into the trap he had been searching for, but since Kick was the one they were expecting was the plan still on? As he reached the door to the back building, he put one of his hands on his gun, and prepared for an attack.

* * *

As soon as Kick's seatbelt clicked, her foot hit the gas pedal and Leon felt his head being forced into the seat; the owner of the car certainly had an appreciation for torque. Wesker had managed to make a yellow light, but Kick was not so lucky.

"Babe, you can't make it," Leon warned, trying to buckle up. At first he thought he had nothing to worry about, but then he looked back up the light was red and Kick was not slowing down at all. "Kick?" he asked nervously, looking at how serious her face was. "Kick?"

"Hold on," she warned. As the light turned red their speed accelerated, and when the car reached the middle of the intersection they barely missed a crossing truck and its horn blared angrily. As his girlfriend sped down a thankfully straight road, Wesker about fifty feet ahead, Leon stared at Kick's arms and hands. He analyzed the way she looked as she drove, how she hesitated when she lifted her foot for the brake, and how she sat forward so close to the steering wheel.

As he realized that he had never seen Kick drive before he gripped his door handle and turned in his seat. "Babe?" If he was wrong then he did not want to offend her in any way, but there was no way he would know unless he asked. "Have you ever driven before?"

"Of course," she said, frowning as she made a sharp right, not slowing down enough to stay in the right lane. If there had been heavy traffic on this night, a wreck would have been unavoidable. "Once."

"So you don't have your license?" he almost yelled.

"Well, I tried!" she yelled. "You see, Wesker took Gianna and me driving. Gianna did great according to him," she explained, with a hint of jealousy.

"And you?" he needlessly asked.

"Well, when I got us back home he kinda didn't say anything. He just took the keys out of the ignition and walked off."

"And you_ never_ asked him why?" His grip tightened on the handle.

"Well, whenever I asked if I could drive again, he just left the room."

Deciding to put his life in God's hands, the brunet sat back in his seat and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "Great." If they survived, it would be a comical scene to imagine: Wesker running away from a teenager with the desire to drive, or kill him whichever she was attempting. Of course, the others needed them now, so he needed to trust Kick behind the wheel, and so far they had not seen any cops. Tonight was going to be a long night.

* * *

Leon and Kick had decided that now was the time split up; the vans of their comrades could be seen clearly, but Chris, Rush, and Jill were nowhere to be found. Of course, what else was expected? The black sports car that Wesker had driven was locked, and most likely empty. So now their only option was to check inside the building, which did not look like much of anything at all. With a sigh, Leon ended his call to Saul, and looked at the factory as though it were a huge chore.

After her boyfriend assured her that he had the main building, Kick made her way out to the back, hoping that Wesker had gotten lack luster and left Claire lying on the ground somewhere. Then again, if they found Claire it would do no good; they needed to find the rest of their crew as well.

Without the thought of there being a mechanism or a booby trap of some sort, Kick rammed her body into the door at full force. Wood splintered around her as she tried to keep her balance once she was over the threshold, but the sight of Roger holding an unconscious Chris by the back of his neck caused her knees to buckle. No words passed between the two; it disgusted her when he had the nerve merely to address her, and she wished that he had stayed dead when she killed him.

Rage made her blood boil as she looked at the face that she hated more than any other, and when she realized that her abhorrence for him was far greater than it had ever been for Alice, she drew her gun. She walked toward him, knowing that there was going to have to be an exchange in order for her friend to come out of this unscathed, but something in her just wanted her to keep going until she met Roger on the other side. When she would reach him, she would blow his brains onto the wall behind him, staining the stone with the blood of a man the world no longer needed. A man they _never_ needed.

Since it was clear the Tyrant would not speak, her former "owner" did so first. "Isabella!" he called, stopping her dead in her tracks, and she looked at the gun as if she had been in a trance. Slowly, she holstered her weapon and raised both of her hands to reveal that they were empty. It took her a while to accept that he was really standing there after she stabbed him to death, after there was so much blood. The man who forced her over the threshold from human to bio organic weapon was once more a threat in her life, and this time he was no weak scientist like before.

"Leave Chris out of this," she warned.

"And since when do _you_ tell _me_ what to do?"

Fearing that another smart comment would lead him to try and show off by inflicting pain upon Chris, Kick decided to choose her words more carefully. "What do you want Roger?" With a smirk his let his captive's limp body fall to the floor, and he folded his arms over his chest. There was a table behind him that she had not noticed before, and she could make out the shape of a sheet of paper. "What's that?"

"Well my dear, we were betrothed if you don't recall. I just want you to sign the paper, make it official."

All the contents of her stomach threatened to make a surprise return at his request, but she could not show any emotion while dealing with him. Roger was a sadomasochist, but only when it came to toying with another being's emotions. The scientist would do everything he could to ensure that Kick was as uncomfortable as possible, just for his own amusement and pleasure.

With one more step she declared, "That's not all is it? I sign a paper; become your wife, and then what? You take me away and we get married all proper with a priest and a hired audience. I'm not signing anything, I'm not going anywhere with you, but you _are _going to let Christopher Redfield walk out of here without another scratch on him. And you're gonna go far, far away from me, and never return Roger."

Like her suggestion was a cool breeze in the desert, he looked up at the ceiling like he was daydreaming and smiled, but there was no intended humor. "I think my plan is a lot better but too predictable. Or did Wesker ruin the surprise?"

With a single laugh the Tyrant shook her head. "Roger, you know why I hated you? You're an overachiever, you want what was never meant to be yours, you're misogynistic, and you think you're some fucking genius. You're just like William Birkin." The comparison was intentional; she knew he hated his colleague more than Kick did herself.

For a moment he looked like he was going to be reeled in, but rather than lose control he only lost his smirk.

She wasn't done yet. "You failed and you got your ass beat."

"Oh get off it Isabella!" he exclaimed, holding his hands out by his side. "I'm not falling for-"

"Just. Like. Birkin," she interjected.

At first he only balled his hands up into fists, gritting his teeth, but Kick knew it was his revulsion for Birkin and not anger towards her. From experience she knew that scientists were angered very easily, and that they would take that anger out on anyone. Tell them they're idiots and they work hard to disprove you, tell them there's a God and they hate you, make a comparison between them and a colleague and they'll use their knowledge to make your life a living hell. Though she knew she wouldn't make it to Chris, Kick dashed toward him anyway, but was caught by her throat.

Roger's grip was strong, and this was exactly the test she needed to figure out his true strength. He was enraged; he would be using most of his new ability at this moment when he was blinded by fury, and now she knew that he was not as strong as she was. Of course Wesker would not allow Roger to surpass him in anything but lab work, and even that loss stung. Chris moved behind them, groaning slightly, but once he saw where he was he quieted. When his vision put together the image of Kick being choked he pulled out his gun that Roger was too cocky to take from him, and from years of practice he shot without taking long to lock onto the target.

The shot hurt Kick's ears, going off like a bomb on the field, and Roger let out a guttural cry as the shock caused him to release her. She fell to the floor coughing and holding her neck, the whole time crawling towards her comrade, away from the door that would lead them to the others. Staggering the remainder of the way to Chris, Kick once again reached for her weapon.

"I really doubt guns are gonna work against this guy," Chris warned, gun still aimed.

Removing her own from her holster, the black haired woman also took aim and said, "Well it's still fun to shoot him." Fearlessly, Roger took a step forward, earning another shot to his chest, but he only smirked at their attempts to slow him down. Kick knew what had to be done, and it was the only choice she had if she wanted Chris to get out of there alive.

No explanation given to her friend, she holstered her gun and ran at her opponent so quickly that she was almost a blur to Chris. For a split second she saw panic cause Roger's eyes to widen; he was not strong enough to fight her, and he would be a fool to attempt it. Of course those who possessed an excess of book sense had very little common sense, and that described Roger perfectly. A beeping noise stopped the Tyrant dead in her tracks, also causing her to take her eyes off of her target.

"You care for him so much," Roger purred, with a remote now visible in his hands. "The earth can have you both."

Kick watched him turn and dash towards the door, but his threat echoed in her ears. "Chris!" she yelled, running back towards him. He looked confused as she shot in his direction, and when she rammed into him at full speed the black haired woman jumped into the air with him in her grasp. Below them, the floor rumbled, and a small explosion shook the building momentarily. Together they hit the floor, and just as Kick stood up with a mind to complain about such a small detonation device she felt the floor falling below her.

She felt like she was sinking quickly, with no idea what lay below her, and with what she thought would be her last sacrifice, she tossed Chris onto the remaining corner of the floor. She expected for the falling feeling to continue, but she felt someone who could only be Chris grab her arm and before she pulled herself back up she saw no bottom. Water could be heard running, something was splashing around in it, but this building was apparently one huge trap.

"I thought the ground felt weird beneath me," she grunted, as both her and her friend worked to get her up. It was easier for her to get up because of her strength, but Chris' help only added to a speedy save from Lord knows what. They both collapsed on the floor, breathing hard more from shock than anything else. Kick was the first one to sit up on her elbows, taking a look at the damage which presented itself in the shape of a hole about fifteen feet across in the middle of the floor. "Oh shit," she breathed, turning to face Chris.

"You okay?" he asked, sitting up.

"Yeah, sure."

"I guess we should get outta here," the brunet replied, leaning over her, staring into her red eyes. All she could manage was a nod as their opposite colored orbs locked. Fire and ice. Kick's chest continued to rise and fall, breathing unconsciously. As Chris' face loomed closer, she felt her eyes droop closed, unable to discern whether or not it was exhaustion or something else that needed plenty of courage to admit to.

It did not take long for her comrade to act, and soon their mouths were against each other while Kick pulled Chris down by his neck. Somehow their legs were tangled now as they pulled at each other, and at the feel of Chris' tongue trying to enter her mouth she pulled away. Taken aback, though he should not have been, Chris sat back against the wall while a puzzled and confused Kick stared down the remaining part of the floor.

Robotically, she reminded him, "We need to find Claire. And the others were nowhere in sight when we got here. So we should…" As her friend got to his feet and began carefully making his way to the door, feeling out his steps on the floor that surrounded the hole, she could not help but trail off. When actions spoke louder than words, how could she argue?

* * *

As soon as they entered the main building, Kick and Chris found the rest of their team, minus Saul of course. Still, it was better than just the two of them left to duke it out with both Wesker, and Roger, and that made Chris remember the promise made by the Tyrant that he called his friend. If tonight was the night that he killed his former captain, then it would be his last night alive as well.

"Where the hell have the rest of you been?" Kick asked once their group formed a circle.

With an accusing glare, Jill answered, "Well, you're sister led Rush and me on a wild goose chase through the surrounding woodland area."

Rolling his eyes at Jill's noticeable anger towards Kick, Rush interrupted. "What about Claire? Has anybody seen her?"

The double doors flew open in reply to the captain's inquiry, but the missing redhead was not the one who entered. Wesker, with a sick smirk on his face made his way to the far end of the room with Gianna, Bartleby, and Roger following close behind. They all looked quite happy themselves, almost as if this was their plan, but it was clear to see that they were only attempting to rattle their opponents. Tonight was the night all right, and there was no way Wesker was getting away with fucking with Chris' family this time. And if he did, then he would not be unhurt this time around.

They were all ready to save her. Claire may have gotten kidnapped every five seconds, people may have gotten hurt, but in Chris' eyes this only meant they were a step closer to defeating Wesker. Chris, Jill, Leon, Kick, and Rush stood together, staring down the line that stood before them. Although, Bartleby's presence made Kick chuckle; were they really setting a regular human up with a line of Tyrants? This fight would not end well though; Kick knew Chris wanted to go after Wesker, but she did not want humans to have to fight Tyrants.

"Give me my sister." Chris' command was surprisingly calm, but things were about to get ugly so reserving his strength rather than wasting it on a verbal attack was definitely the right way to go. Wesker seemed to have the same idea, for he only gave a single chuckle, barely audible, but his predictability gave him away. "I've got Wesker," he whispered, signaling that the rest of them needed to choose an opponent as well, but it was understood that Jill was also aiming for the same person.

"There's just something about that guy I don't like." Leon was referring to Bartleby, who couldn't look more nervous right now.

"Well, as much as I want Roger, nobody kicks my sister's ass but me," Kick said. "So Rush, looks like you got my ex-fiancé." Without a word to her friends, Kick was the first to rush to her opponent, and as soon as Chris noticed that she was gone from her previous spot, he was the next to go. Soon the large space was a war zone, filled with the sound of grunting, and the hatred seemed to weigh the air down.

"Isabella, just give it up." Gianna's voice, though pleading was also filled with irritation, and her twin did not enjoy being told what to do. Especially when it came to her older sister.

"Gianna," she began, "it kills me to tell you this, but you're most likely gonna die here, but it doesn't have to be that way." Kick knew that her sister was already far too gone to get her back now, and when this battle was done that she would be the one standing, not Gianna. The younger sister was the first one to throw a punch that Gianna easily dodged, but the truth was that there was no way that she could hurt her sister too badly. The youngest Abolhassan child was a prototype of what Gianna was, and so that meant she was more dangerous. The sound of a gun cocking distracted her for a second, and she saw that Bartleby had already come to the conclusion that without a firearm Leon would kick his ass.

Before the Tyrant could get to her boyfriend though, Gianna grabbed her by her throat and slammed her into the stone floor, and Kick swore she heard it cracking beneath her skull. While she waited for the pounding in her head to cease, she looked to her left to see that Chris and Jill were being flung in every direction, and Rush was now nursing an injured arm. To her right, Leon had managed to take his opponent's weapon, and Gianna was suddenly there to protect her partner. Shakily, Kick got to her feet, and though she felt like she was suffering a bought of vertigo while drunk. In an effort to gain some balance she shook her head and raced toward her sister, tackling her until they were stopped by the wall.

Someone grabbed her by her arm and threw her to the ground. Before Roger could deal a blow, she jumped to her feet quickly and caught hold of her sister's arm. Genuinely afraid for Leon's life she threw Gianna into Roger and she heard the both of them hit a few empty crates. It seemed the attacks were coming from everywhere; Wesker even decided to get in on the fight against her. Chris was helping Jill to her feet so for some reason he decided to let up on his most hated enemy and capitalize on this chance to once more capture his true target. Though her head was killing her already, she decided to give her telekinetic abilities a try and managed to knock Wesker back.

It was not enough, though; Roger and Gianna made a return and tried to hold her in place by her arms. The sight of her last standing comrade, Leon, struggling once more with Bartleby distracted her long enough for Wesker make his way back over to her. Easily, she threw off her sister and Roger, but Wesker dropped from sight, and she felt him trip her. The force actually caused her to flip before falling hard to the concrete floor, and she felt the pain in her left knee and hip. As he stood over her, she glanced back to Leon who was about to deliver a punch to his opponent's jaw, and knowing it would result in a knockout Kick refocused on her former mentor.

Slowly, she got to her feet, finding that she was surrounded by her old family, and she knew she was outnumbered.

"Kick!" Leon only got three steps before Gianna grabbed him by his head and threw him into the nearest wall, knocking him unconscious.

"You dumb whore!" Kick's exclamation hadn't been thought before it was spoken, and it was undoubtedly crushing her sister to hear that word spoken to her once more. An attempt to land a punch on her sister's cheek failed, and instead Wesker was the one to land a blow to Kick's right eye. In her left eye she saw Roger rush at her, but something unexpected happened.

Wesker's surprise showed on his face when Gianna caught the scientist by his shoulder and said, "You will _never_ hurt my sister again." An animal look came over her face, and Kick felt herself smirk. The pain in her leg and hip was subsiding, and from experience she knew that it would return the next day with a vengeance. For now though, she was going use her time wisely, and for once fight back against Wesker.

The youngest Tyrant in the brawl threw herself at Wesker, attacking, blocking, and she had no idea what kept her going. It became a back and forth game as Wesker landed a punch, then Kick, and to their right Gianna was winning against Roger. The attack went on a three minutes, and all the while Chris was cheering on his comrade while he tried to help the rest of his fallen squad. Roger yelled out an insult, signaling that his fight was over, and that he had lost to the eldest Abolhassan twin. Now it was hopefully two against one; Kick had no idea if Gianna's attack on her own ally was because she hated him and the way he treated her sister in the past, or if she was really on her side.

When she came to stand next to her sister, Kick's confidence boosted. They looked into each others' eyes to make a silent agreement between one another, ready to go head to head with the man who was responsible for everything that was unfolding today. When Wesker braced himself, the double doors opened once more, and commands were shouted as men in white suits flooded the building. A few ran to help the injured AUA agents, while the rest cautiously inched towards the group of warring Tyrants, electrical rods and tranquilizer guns in hand.

"Do you know them?" Kick's question had been directed at her sister, who had become silent and still. Wesker smirked before kicking Roger to rouse him, and wordlessly he burst through the crowd of men before throwing the fallen Bartleby over his shoulder and dashing out of the building. Now there were only two B.O.W.S., and over a dozen more men in white were spilling in through the door. They neared the twins with their methods of reprimanding them at the ready, and the problem that they were presented with now was that because of the masks of their suits there was no way to tell who they were looking at.

Now, they would have to settle for fighting the intruders rather than Wesker. The men under the suits must have been strong, because though they were failing, they were getting right back up. Kick had to take her eyes off of her sister during this battle, because she needed to avoid being captured, but at the same time she needed to make sure she wasn't killing human beings who could have been on her side. This thought seemed plausible though; quick glances to her friends showed her that the men in white were aiding the AUA agents, but they were only interested in harming the Tyrants.

Her heart dropped, she released a man she was holding by his neck, and focused on the men that were now surrounding her sister. Though she called her name, Gianna was too preoccupied to hear her, so Kick tried to get through to her by throwing men to the side. A crackling noise cut through the air, as Gianna reached out to her younger sibling, but just as their fingertips met, they both fell to the floor. The familiar sting of electricity was the cause for Kick's downfall, and since no cry left the other Tyrant it was safe to say that she was now asleep with the aid of the tranquilizers. More stings rendered her without movement, and not even the name of her sister could be heard over the commands to move the body.

_The body?_

* * *

Chris watched as a sleeping Gianna was carried out of the building and loaded into a secure van, and as soon as it drove back down to the city the strange group of suited men began disappearing. There was still no sign of Claire anywhere, or of Wesker, and only his car remained. Saul was responsible for the extra help that had showed up just in the nick of time, and now Chris watched as many AUA officials worked to pry open the doors and trunk of the abandoned sports car. Perhaps there was a clue as to where Claire was.

"Is she in there?" the brunet asked as soon as the driver's door was opened, and he peeked inside to find nothing. There was not even a hair left by his sister, and his hope began to dim. With a heavy sigh stepped away from the car, disappointed in himself, and wondering now if Wesker had killed her and discarded her body somewhere in the woods. Just as he was about to throw in the towel and call it a night, Saul called out to him, and he dragged his tired body to the trunk.

Inside lay a sleeping Claire, beaten, bloody, and broken. Through all the bruises she looked peaceful, and despite the look of tranquility on her face it still angered Chris to know that Wesker had done this to her. Even worse though, was that he left her in the trunk of his car.

Gently, as if she would break from one more touch, Chris stroked her hair and felt the sting of tears. Had it not been for Saul, Claire would be gone. There was only one reason Wesker left her in his getaway vehicle, and Chris felt extremely sure of it when he voiced what he knew to be the truth. "He was going to take her."

A/N: REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! SO DO IT! : )


	27. Goodbye

AVC I

Chapter 22: Goodbye

A/N: This chapter is kind of for Kick and Chris.

Disclaimer: I don't own Resident or its characters, but all original characters and this fic are mine.

A Week Later

Kick zipped up the last of her bags, both anticipating and dreading her flight tomorrow. She would be away from everyone she knew, all alone in London with nothing, and Leon would be across the ocean in America. AAA (better known as Triple A) was an agency that played the role of the world police, shutting down not just corporations but tracking down the most notorious serial killers and murderous organizations around that no one really knew about. She decided that it would be better this way, and maybe now she wouldn't continue to hurt the ones she claimed to love.

She felt a presence behind her, and she could tell that it was Jill. Oh how she did _not _feel like dealing with her bullshit right now, but she did not trust her best friend's girlfriend; she turned to her, wincing in pain from the battle against Roger, Gianna and Wesker. Though she was strong, Kick had sustained some pretty bad bruises, and her bottom lip had been split. Leon had said that she was the prettiest little thing while she was all black and blue. Yeah, in a pitiful way.

Gently, the Tyrant sat on the bed. "What do you want?" There was no need to pretend that she cared about Jill being there, especially after how she tried to hint that it was Kick's fault that her sister led them away, and why would she do that anyhow? So she could walk down the aisle and become Roger's blushing bride? Every time she thought of Roger's sick attempt to rope her into marriage, Kick wanted to vomit. "Come here to gloat about my departure tomorrow?"

The brunette folded her arms over her chest, her face determined, no matter how nasty Kick chose to be she was not backing down. "I came here to ask you a favor." At first Kick wanted to laugh at her nerve, but the serious demeanor on the brunette's face was a bit intimidating. Once she saw that the Tyrant would listen, she took a deep breath, signaling that this would be a tremendous favor. "You know, I don't trust Rush too much."

At this Kick almost laughed, Jill was just a comedian today, but her wounds stopped her from doing so. "Yeah, especially since he has done nothing but fight at our sides."

"There's something off about him Kick," she pressed, taking a step forward, but Kick did not want an argument about her friend's boyfriend to be a fervent one. Rush was not at all a huge part of her life, so why the hell should she have cared if this bitch had an issue with him? "I don't think Claire should be here with him without you to protect her."

Kick's eyebrows raised in interest at Jill's choice of words. Jill did not trust her, so why was she openly admitting that she relied on the mentally unhinged BOW to watch after her boyfriend's sister?

Knowing what she was thinking, Jill quickly said, "I trust you more than him."

If she had had the strength, Kick would have paced back and forth now with mock amusement, but she really wanted to just lie down and sleep for a very long time. Preferably until the second coming but there had been no such luck as of yet. No will for pretense existed, and hate took far too much energy to exert, so she could only humor Jill Valentine's inane insinuation that Rush was a double agent. Rush had been handpicked by AUA, so how the hell was he a suspect?

Before Kick could think of anything witty to say, Jill pulled a plane ticket out that she had been hiding in the back of her jeans. "I want you to take Claire with you to London. You can get her into Triple A, I know you can. I just want her away from Rush and whenever he goes to visit her you'll be there."

Tapping her index finger against her lip, the red eyed woman gave a sigh. "This isn't just about getting her away from Commander Tyler Mills is it Officer Valentine?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Jilly Bean… This particular sect of AUA has had its fair share of wild scenarios. We've been like the party house everyone wants in to. You're screwing him, he's screwing me, Rush is screwing Claire. Saul… well, that's his business and hopefully he'll tell everyone before I leave. The point is tensions as well as emotions run high in this house. All the attention's getting taken away from the actual girlfriend since the sister and best friend are getting kidnapped.

"Is it Rush you want her away from? Or is it that you want both me and her away from Chris?"

* * *

Leon felt strange as he found one of Kick's shirts-well, actually one of his shirts-in his bag and it finally hit him that he was leaving. He was going back to America, and his girlfriend was not coming with him. It made him feel better that it was because she could not have even an indirect link with the American government, and not because she wanted a clean break. This was not what he wanted for them, but things at AUA had become too strange and too hard to deal with. This was only meant to be temporary anyway; this was a stepping stone to prove that he deserved a spot in the reserve program and he had passed the entry exam.

So, why did this victory taste so bitter? His friends would always be accessible through email and the phone, but Kick… Though their relationship was a short one, he had fallen head over heels in love with her, and now he had to deal with converting to phone sex from the real thing.

"Bad joke," he muttered to himself as he sunk down onto the bed he had been sharing with the Tyrant. It wasn't just the sex at all; it was everything about her that had consumed him, but now what would he do when he had to reside in a room filled with cots that held dozens of other men? He could not roll over and kiss her after stirring from his sleep in the middle of the night and make love to her until exhaustion pulled him back into his slumber. He couldn't wake up to her smile anymore, and he couldn't laze around with her in their bed. He could visit sure, but his schedule was tighter than Wesker' ass.

"What the hell is up with these lame jokes? I haven't even left her yet and I can't think straight." What was he going to do when it was time to say goodbye?

* * *

Today, everyone was morose; they were losing members of their little family. Kick was off to London, Saul and Omar were going to Africa to become bounty hunters (consequences of letting them watch "Dog" while they were drunk off their asses), Leon was going to America to join a team of agents in the government, and Rebecca was taking off to search for Billy Coen. Five people were leaving, and so they had lost half of their group this quickly into the formation. Claire intentionally left Patricia out of the equation.

She heard Saul and Omar packing as she strolled down the hallway, listened to Rebecca sniffle, quietly trying to sulk. Since she was attempting to be unheard, Claire figured she wanted to be alone right now, and she knew that her presence during the cleaning out of the twenty-year-old's room would only make it more difficult. When passing by Chris' room, something told her to stop and check on him. She chose not to knock, but rather peek in on what he was doing right now.

The sight of him sitting on the edge of his bed with his face buried in his hands was heartbreaking. "Chris?" she asked, but he gave no response. As she walked over to him, her movements were apprehensive, and she did not know whether or not to sit next to him. She did so wincingly,-Wesker's handiwork on her face and body was going to last a while-and only then did he react.

Without warning, he grabbed her good wrist-thank God- and started with, "There's something I have to tell-" It was evident now that he had not heard her call him, and she was not who he was expecting. This begged the question "Was something going on with him and Jill?" "I'm sorry," he muttered, releasing her from his ironclad grip. His gaze turned to the floor, and Claire's blue eyes searched over him.

He was a wreck; stubble was visible on his cheeks, his hair was unkempt, and he was still wearing the same clothes he had on last night. All Claire could think was, Damn he's taking this hard. He should have been looking at the positive things that had occurred; last week she had been rescued from Wesker.

Just thinking that name… it had ruined her train of thought. Why had he beat her and looked so repentant? Why had it killed him to treat her as though she were expendable? Why was he displaying such confusing emotions towards a woman he claimed meant nothing to him?

_Claire, you're overanalyzing again._

Or was she?

"Claire you wanted something?" Chris asked. By the tone of his voice she could tell that her simply occupying space was bothering him. He hadn't been like that since their parents…

Before speaking she cleared her throat, and it helped her fight back a sudden stream of tears that wanted to come bursting out. "I was just checking on you. It's a stupid question but I just wanted to know if you were ok?" Stupid question indeed, she could tell how he was doing just by looking at him. He was miserable.

"I'm…" He wanted to say "fine," but at the last minute he decided not to insult his sister's intelligence with a lie so pathetic. "It's hard to see 'em all go is all. So much of the team. Leaving tomorrow."

Only an insensitive bitch would have been able to state the line, "And." That is exactly what Claire wanted to say to him at the moment though. Did she believe he was upset about tomorrow? Yes. But she knew that a particular person leaving was to blame for his mood.

"Chris, I know. And it's ok," the redhead said, touching her brother's back to comfort him.

Chris' eyes went wide for a second and he asked, "You do?"

With a lopsided grin, she declared, "Everyone knows. You can't function without Rebecca." Chris looked a little confused at that, like he wanted to say something mean, but after a while he nodded his head in agreement.

"You know me too well," he breathed, giving all his attention to the brown carpet beneath his feet. "Far too well."

* * *

Jill's words had not really gotten through to her, but instead her actions were selfish; Kick didn't want to go to London alone. Surprisingly, the phone call had been easy, and AAA was looking forward to meeting Claire. The matter most likely had more to do with Kick's identity though, and because she made such a wonderful reference they had much trust in her judgment when it came to her choice of partner. The older woman offered the Tyrant the ticket, and for a moment she almost reconsidered, but she knew that Jill would stare daggers at her until her departure if she chickened out now. Snatching it from her hand, she threw the human a scowl and walked to Claire's room to talk her into leaving her brother behind.

"Claire?" The redhead's attention had gone from her laundry to the small woman standing in her doorway. "I got a proposition for you," she began, tapping the ticket against her hand.

Taking a seat on her bed she signaled for her friend to come in. "What is it?" she asked, pointing to the paper in the other woman's hands. Claire's wounds were worse than Kick's, and she actually needed a sling for her broken arm, but that didn't stop her from doing her own errands this week at all.

Sitting next to her, she exhaled sharply and said, "Your future." Without looking into her eyes, she handed her the plane ticket and to occupy herself she put her hair up into a ponytail with a lot more care than was necessary.

"This is a ticket to London," Claire stated, and despite having seen the damned thing already she continued to gaze at it as if it was expected to change form. With wide, blue eyes she turned to face Kick, who was still refusing to look at her. "You want me to go to London with you?"

Ready for this to be over the Tyrant jumped to her feet and began pacing the room while saying, "Well duh. I can't be over there on my own." Finally looking into her eyes she finished with, "I kinda need you."

"What am I gonna do over there?"

"Well, I made a call and they've agreed to take you on board. Just sign on the dotted line."

"I'd have to leave Chris," she stated the obvious with an incredulous and offended look, like it was totally verboten that anyone even speak of once more separating her from her brother.

Now was the time to play dirty. "Wesker knows where this place is, Kick. You go to London you'll have a whole 'Agency of Aristocratic Assassins' looking out for you." Yes, the name was strange but they considered themselves to be the best and most capable agency of assassins and mercenaries in both the eastern and western hemispheres. "They play no games Claire. They're as serious as a heart attack."

A deep sigh signaled that Claire's breaking point on an answer was coming up, and most likely she had already reached one, but being a Redfield woman she had to be difficult. "I really don't have time to think about this?"

"We leave tomorrow morning so… there's no time for that."

"But Rush-"

"Will be fine. He can visit whenever he wants. But training is no cake walk so, make sweet love to him tonight for as long as you can, and kiss him goodbye for a few months." Claire's lover's reaction would be interesting to witness; if he was overly dramatic and upset then it meant he did have an ulterior motive. If he was his usual calm and composed self then Jill's fears had not been well founded.

All Kick knew was that if there was a _chance_ that her best friend was in danger then she wanted her out of there. Maybe Jill's paranoia had rubbed off on her, but then again, Rush had only cared about making friends with Claire out of all of them. Blond male, blue eyes, sunglasses, and very good about keeping his head; it sounded like another man who Kick knew far too well.

Jill, she thought to herself, you're probably right.

* * *

Her decision had complicated things, and it was obvious as she lay next to her boyfriend. Making love didn't seem to cause his spirits to rise, and Kick and Leon's decision to call their relationship off until his training was over had not sent him any positive signals about his own. Claire couldn't stand to see Rush like this, nor could she stand to feel like she was losing him, but her decision had been made and now was the time to deal with these emotions. All of her clothes were packed, as well as all other necessities, but remembering the sound of Kick and Leon arguing made her shiver. The redhead chose to deny that she and her commander were better off broken up, and they decided that they could make it.

Still, something was bothering Tyler Mills, and he was not telling Claire anything. Almost as if he could sense her concern he decided to stroke her hair in hopes of alleviating any feelings of doubt.

"So this is how we're going to leave it?" Leon was much calmer than he was before, but in his voice Kick could tell that a couple of new feelings had formed. "You're breaking up with me?"

She was tired of the conversation because so far he could not wrap his mind around the fact that he just gotten dumped. "What the hell else are we supposed to do Leon?" she yelled, hearing something behind her smash into the wall. Her frustration was something that she needed to have in check right now because the next thing to go flying could be him. "You could drink and you'll miss me and then what do you think you'll do? Watch Oprah? No."

His gaze fell to the floor and he looked like a shamed dog, but he seemed to be accepting what she said as the truth when he looked back up.

"You'll fuck someone," she finished, looking hurt as the words fell from her lips. "And if you do while we're not together, it won't hurt as bad."

Shaking his head, he walked over to her and pulled her into his embrace. "You're the only one that I want," he whispered.

I can't trust myself, she thought, knowing that Leon wasn't the problem. She was.

* * *

Returning to that room was unintentional, but she had to get one last look at it before she said goodbye to that house. She stared out the window at the yard, remembering the times she and Leon would indulge in such silly pleasures as watching squirrels fight. At that recollection she felt a warm smile spread across her face, and the memory of them making bets caused her to laugh out loud. In the end no one won; they always lost track of which squirrel was which.

"I'm glad I get to hear you laugh one more time."

Kick's smile disappeared at the sound of Chris' voice, and she slowly turned to face him. He had finally shaved, but his posture definitely gave away the fact that he was sad. "You're acting like you'll never see me again." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked over to her, and she failed to notice that he had shut the door behind him.

He stood over her, staring down into her red eyes, his blue ones searching them for any signs of an opening. He was like an addict right now, desperately looking for a way in so he could get what he wanted, but like an addict he would end up taking things too far if given the opportunity.

"Why aren't you seeing us off?" she asked, not breaking eye contact with him. Looking away would only give him the proof he needed; he would know that that kiss was bothering her as much as it was him, but in the worst way possible. Something was there, and it was not because that section of the building was crumbling around them. There were tears in his eyes, she could see that much, and she just knew that confusion about his feelings for her was eating away at him. "Maybe my leaving is the sign that we need to stop this? Before it becomes something we can't control."

There was a long pause, and then he said, "It was always there Kick. I just never paid attention to it until… before Brazil." His big hands cupped her cheeks, holding her in place, but he knew she could tear away from him. By her failure to do so, he could see that she was as conflicted as he was.

Releasing all the breath from her lungs caused her to feel lightheaded, and her eyes focused on his lips. Knowing she wasn't going anywhere, he released her, and leaned down to press his lips against hers. Her body swayed and he held her by her waist, his other hand catching her under the bend of her knee, and he muttered thanks that she was wearing a dress. She allowed him to lift her and carry her over to the bed, and set her down slowly. But he became anxious, and pulled off her panties.

His breathing was shaky as he said, "We have time." Kick could not stop him though, she only lay there, and moaned when she felt him massage her member. Oh, she wanted to say yes, yes, yes, but couldn't. She wasn't saying no either. In the end it was neither of them that stopped, but instead it was someone asking, "Where's Kick?"

Staring into his eyes she whispered softly, "Goodbye Chris."

A/N: Review please and I'll have part two up quick. This chapter was meant to be choppy. I had actually thought about skipping over this chapter period but I said why not use a few parts.


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